The University of Chicago Appropriate Conduct at Home and Abroad: Forming and Reforming Imperialist Ideologies in Popular Dutc

Home , Dejima, Dutch Gold Coast, Frederick Marryat, Johannes van den Bosch, Jules van den Bossche, Melati van Java

THE UNIVERSITY OF CHICAGO

APPROPRIATE CONDUCT AT HOME AND ABROAD:

FORMING AND REFORMING IMPERIALIST IDEOLOGIES IN

POPULAR DUTCH AND BRITISH JUVENILE NOVELS, 1814-1879

A DISSERTATION SUBMITTED TO

THE FACULTY OF THE DIVISION OF THE HUMANITIES

IN CANDIDACY FOR THE DEGREE OF

DOCTOR OF PHILOSOPHY

DEPARTMENT OF COMPARATIVE LITERATURE

NANA MARIE DIEDERICHS HOLTSNIDER

CHICAGO, ILLINOIS

Table of contents

Acknowledgments iv

Abstract v

Introduction 1

Chapter 1: Reforming female conduct at home: Deliberating colonial

identity in early nineteenth-century domestic moral tales 28

Chapter 2: Mastering manhood abroad: Re-forming masculine conduct

to overcome the limits of empire in early adventure novels 61

Chapter 3: Reforming Africans: Utilizing humanitarian conduct to

foster paternalistic imperialism in later adventure tales 93

Conclusion: Encountering and Reforming Imperialism in Popular

Juvenile Fiction 131

Appendix A: Timeline of significant events in the British and Dutch

Empires, 1780-1910 136

Appendix B: Titles of popular Dutch juvenile novels with colonial

content, 1814-1879 140

Appendix C: Brief biographical and bibliographical overview of main

authors 143

Bibliography 148

iii

Acknowledgments

I would like to sincerely thank my dissertation committee: Loren Kruger, Sascha Ebeling, and

Jolanda Vanderwal Taylor. I owe special acknowledgment and gratitude to my chair, Loren Kruger, for her guidance, thorough feedback, and willingness to delve into nineteenth-century juvenile

Dutch literature. I am also grateful to Sarah Wenzel and the University of Chicago Library for assisting me with valuable resources from afar, as well as Heather Keenleyside for valuable insights.

To my friends and fellow graduate students at the University of Chicago, I would particularly like to thank the following for their sustained encouragement: Chandani Patel, Monica Felix,

Stephen Parkin, Jill Parkin, Katrina Powers, Brady Smith, Chloe Blackshear, and Brian Berry.

For my early forays into comparative and Dutch literature, I thank my mentors at the

University of Iowa: Rick Altman, Julie Hochstrasser, Sidney Huttner, and Alan Nagel; and fellow graduate students at the University of Colorado: Katina Rogers and Sarah Jane Bates Gray.

Finally, I extend my heartfelt thanks to my family for supporting my lengthy, circuitous academic journey. I feel fortunate to have always had the support of my parents, Wayne and

Stephanie Diederichs, to explore the world. Thank you for sending me abroad at eighteen to the

Netherlands for a year, where I was equally fortunate to acquire a wonderful second family, Huigh and Sietske van der Mandele, who inspired in me a love of all things Dutch. My host brother, Joost, deserves a special thank you for spending his evenings as my Dutch teacher. To my dearest friends,

Alana and Amanda, thank you for always listening. Thank you to my children, Maud and Henry, for the welcome distraction of your laughter while writing this dissertation. And to my husband, Jim, thank you so very much for insisting that I work on the topic that made my heart sing, and for finding ways for us to both dream big and still make it work wherever we are in the world.

Abstract

This study’s examination of popular Dutch and British juvenile literature in a comparative context from 1814-1879 has a threefold purpose: to understand how nineteenth-century European imperialist ideology was instilled and perpetuated in popular texts for youth before the peak of modern imperialism from 1880-1914; to address overlooked Dutch juvenile literature and the broader Dutch Empire outside of the Dutch East Indies in the nineteenth century; and to demonstrate how these texts not only promote paternalistic imperialism but also contain contradictions and gaps that work against their surface imperialist ideologies. Paternalistic imperialism in literature often employs family analogies of a benevolent father (country) deciding what is best for his dependent (colonial) children, framed in a way that offers shared humanity within the empire but also reinforces white European superiority over colonial others, especially in terms of appropriate conduct. Though paternalism is distasteful by modern standards, it was not perceived of as such in the nineteenth century, even preferred to the contemporary derisive understanding of humanitarianism as excessive sentimentality.

Each chapter contrasts two popular novels, one British and one Dutch, which are representative of a typical juvenile genre from the time: domestic moral tales from the late 1810s by

Barbara Hofland and Petronella Moens; early adventure novels from the 1840s by Frederick Marryat and A.E. van Noothoorn; and later adventure tales from the 1870s by R.M. Ballantyne and J.H. van

Balen. These representative novels go beyond the typical critical geographic focus of British India and the Dutch East Indies by including content on Barbados, Suriname, the Cape Colony and South

Africa, Sydney, the Seychelles, Zanzibar, and territories making up modern-day Sudan and

Mozambique. With these locations, these novels also draw attention to the different abolition

v priorities and timelines in both empires, underscoring slavery’s prominent role in informing and shaping contemporary perceptions of empire. To best identify imperialist ideologies in these popular juvenile novels, the focus is on prescribed appropriate conduct with colonial or foreign others, especially in encounters with (former) slaves.

Despite the historical and political decline of the Dutch Empire at the time in comparison with the dominant British Empire, these novels show a similar cultural idea of national, paternalistic imperialism written for juvenile consumption. Though these texts appear straightforward, formulaic, and patronizing, they demonstrate continued merit due to the significant role popular juvenile literature played in substantiating imperialist ideologies. They merit even closer examination to witness how the process of materializing ideology within a textual format causes fissures in the very ideology they were striving to uphold.

With this study finding Dutch novels employing similar strategies as British ones to further imperialism in popular culture, it confirms the Netherlands warrants inclusion in dialogue to understand the impact and long-lasting cultural significance of nineteenth-century European paternalistic imperialism, further indicating that neither the Dutch nor British Empires were as unique in their cultural approaches to imperialism as they claimed to be. It also contends that popular juvenile literature from 1814-1879 was instrumental in disseminating imperialist outlooks while also arguing for popular juvenile fiction’s significant, if subtle, part in weakening nineteenth- century imperialism as it moved toward its peak at the end of the century.

Introduction

Popular Dutch and British juvenile novels from the nineteenth century present didactic plots that frequently highlight the benefits of learning appropriate conduct or reforming inappropriate conduct. But these tales are more than entertaining fiction still trading on juvenile literature’s conduct-book origins.1 Rather, they are fundamental to instilling and perpetuating nineteenth- century imperialist ideologies in both countries, particularly fostering an increasing sense of paternalistic imperialism throughout the period. Paternalistic imperialism in literature often employs family analogies of a benevolent father (country) deciding what is best for his dependent (colonial) children, framed in a way that offers shared humanity within the empire but also reinforces white

European superiority over colonial others, especially in terms of appropriate conduct. Though paternalism is distasteful by modern standards, it was not perceived of as such in the nineteenth century, even preferred to the contemporary derisive understanding of humanitarianism as excessive sentimentality.2

As this project investigates, nineteenth-century imperialist ideologies – here understood as the cultural instantiation of imperialism – become particularly visible, and problematic, through encounters and sanctioned conduct with foreign or colonial others,3 especially with (former) slaves.

1 Sylvia Kasey Marks, Writing for the Rising Generation: British Fiction for Young People 1672-1839 (Victoria, BC.: University of Victoria Department of English, 2004), 12; Dennis Butts, “Finding and Sustaining a Popular Appeal: The Case of Barbara Hofland,” in Popular Children’s Literature in Britain, ed. Julia Briggs, Dennis Butts, and Matthew Orville Grenby (Aldershot, England; Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing, Ltd., 2008), 115. 2 For paternalist, see Michael N Barnett, Empire of Humanity: A History of Humanitarianism (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2013), 233. For humanitarianism, see Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “humanitarianism,” accessed March 15, 2018, www.oed.com.proxy.uchicago.edu/view/Entry/272189. See chapter three of this project as well. 3 Elleke Boehmer contends that empire writing can slip and undercut itself when it comes under pressure “at moments of close interaction or involvement with individuals from other cultures and regions, or with those other cultures or regions more broadly,” Elleke Boehmer, Empire Writing: An Anthology of Colonial Literature, 1870-1918 (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 1998), xxix. 1

The popular works examined here all contain gaps, silences, and outright contradictions, whether intentional or not, which undermine and reform their purported imperialist ideologies by challenging common perceptions of class, race, and conduct. These novels send young readers a mixed message about possessing a diverse “extra-European world,”4 a world that at once solidified and weakened perceptions of national and imperial identity. This project argues that the similarity of Dutch to

British imperialist ideologies formed and reformed in popular juvenile literature warrant the

Netherlands a rightful spot in the larger European dialogue on imperialism. In limiting the primary sources to before 1880, when the period designated as “modern imperialism” begins,5 it is possible to see how these imperialist ideologies begin to take shape in popular juvenile “light reading.”6 Or, how the idea of empire, with its alleged racial and behavioral superiority of the paternalistic home country, is formed, perpetuated, interrogated, and passed on to youth in Dutch and British society through popular juvenile fiction.

Internal contradictions in novels pertaining to empire are perhaps to be expected, though not rendering them less significant, reflecting what scholars like Elleke Boehmer call the messy reality of empire and its lack of a single, coherent imperialist ideology to be distilled.7 Though ideology as a term often carries a negative sense of false consciousness, this project views ideology as a general term along the lines of Althusser to identify and describe the unconscious and evolving beliefs used in material social practices, such as literature, which naturalize and then underlie the

4 Andrew Porter, European Imperialism, 1860-1914 (Houndmills, Basingstoke, Hampshire: Palgrave Macmillan, 1994), 70. 5 For interpretations of modern imperialism, see Elsbeth Locher-Scholten, “Dutch Expansion in the Indonesian Archipelago Around 1900 and the Imperialism Debate,” Journal of Southeast Asian Studies 25, no. 1 (1994): 92–93. 6 As Martin Green asserts, the “adventure tales that formed the light reading of Englishmen for two hundred years and more after Robinson Crusoe were the energising myth of English imperialism.” Martin Green, Dreams of Adventure, Deeds of Empire (New York: Basic Books, 1980), 3. 7 As Boehmer contends, “These various dissonances dramatize the ambiguities and the sheer messiness that were involved in the experience of empire, and in the implementation of imperial authority itself,” Boehmer, Empire Writing, xx. 2 cultural values held by a society that govern conduct.8 Believing in ideologies, even extremely racist ones by today’s standards, was not always negative, as imperialist ideologies could carry a positive connotation in the nineteenth century, as scholar Patrick Brantlinger confirms in relation to

Victorian Britain: “imperialism was a compelling set of beliefs precisely because it seemed to express their interests clearly and rationally. It was good to be British and on top of the world.”9 Imperialist ideology in this project, thus, is not meant as a belittling label, but rather seeks to examine more neutrally how, through a novel’s word choices, narrative gaps, and examples of conduct, ideologies pertaining to the perpetuation of empire are formed, contradict themselves, and accrue cultural value(s).

Locating imperialist ideologies and their shifting iterations in novels10 draws attention to the symbiotic relationship of social authority between fictional texts and imperialism, as Edward Said claimed:

[T]he novel, as a cultural artefact of bourgeois society, and imperialism are unthinkable without each other. Of all the major literary forms, the novel is the most recent, its emergence the most datable, its occurrence the most Western, its normative pattern of social authority the most structured; imperialism and the novel fortified each other to such a

8 Louis Althusser, “Ideology and Ideological State Apparatus (Notes Towards and Investigation),” in Lenin and Philosophy and Other Essays, trans. Ben Brewster (New York: Monthly Review Press, 2001), 85–126. The OED definition of “ideology” draws attention to the relationship between ideology and conduct: “4. A systematic scheme of ideas, usually relating to politics, economics, or society and forming the basis of action or policy; a set of beliefs governing conduct. Also: the forming or holding of such a scheme of ideas,” Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “ideology,” accessed June 1, 2018, www.oed.com.proxy.uchicago.edu/view/Entry/91016. 9 Patrick Brantlinger, Rule of Darkness: British Literature and Imperialism, 1830–1914 (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2013), 14. My interpretation of ideology follows Patrick Brantlinger’s that “assumes, with Michel Foucault, that discourse is a form of power, and that therefore what the Victorians thought, wrote, and read about their developing Empire mattered, even though what they thought, wrote, and read can now be critically understood as ‘ideology’ (with that word’s inevitable suggestion of error or mystification.) Imperialist ideology was quite simply the chief enabling factor that made the political support for and expansion of the Empire possible,” Brantlinger, x. 10 The term “novel” varied from pejorative early in the nineteenth century to celebrated later in the century, Tim Killick, British Short Fiction in the Early Nineteenth Century: The Rise of the Tale (London; New York: Routledge, 2016), 17–18; Edward W Said, Culture and Imperialism (New York: Knopf: Distributed by Random House, 1993), 71–72. I use it here to recognize the form shared by the texts examined in this project, as the OED defines “novel” in sense 4.b.: “a long fictional prose narrative, usually filling one or more volumes and typically representing character and action with some degree of realism and complexity,” Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “novel,” accessed June 1, 2018, http://www.oed.com.proxy.uchicago.edu/view/Entry/128757. 3

degree that it is impossible, I would argue, to read one without in some way dealing with the other.11

Though Said limits his claims to English novels, focusing on those written for adult consumption, I instead argue for the pivotal role of popular juvenile novels, in both English and Dutch, in propping up empire – and its class and race structures – by attempting to establish and enforce the limits of what young heroes/heroines can become in society.

Since the nineteenth century was generally conceived of as the age of imperialism, it therefore provides the best period to trace and examine examples of imperialist ideologies, beginning with the premise that imperialist ideologies exist in all nineteenth-century children’s literature, as Peter Hunt and Karen Sands note this assumed truism with respect to British literature:

Just as the concept of “empire” saturated British culture, so virtually all (English-language) histories of children’s literature agree that children’s books, always fundamentally involved in reflecting and transmitting culture, were the witting or unwitting agents of the empire- builders. This was true of all writing, not merely the stories designed for the boys who were to be the empire-builders; it affected girls’ stories, school stories, religious stories, fairy stories.12

This project agrees and turns to Dutch juvenile literature, in comparison with British juvenile literature, to examine the extent to which the juvenile novel’s relationship with empire surfaces through prescribed conduct and encounters with foreign others and how these perceptions of superiority/inferiority of race and class were culturally signified.

Not only are these novels “agents” of the “empire-builders,” but they also wittingly and unwittingly undermine those same imperialist ideologies through gaps and contradictions within the texts in part thanks to their literary form, as theorist Pierre Macherey contends.13 With literature’s

11 Said, Culture and Imperialism, 70–71. 12 Peter Hunt and Karen Sands, “The View from the Center: British Empire and Post-Empire Children’s Literature,” in Voices of the Other: Children’s Literature and the Postcolonial Context, ed. Roderick McGillis (New York; London: Garland Pub., 1999), 40. 13 Presumably other European languages as well, but this project is limited to English and Dutch novels. For an overview of French juvenile novels and their ideological role in French imperialism, see Philip Dine, “The French 4 object as “ideology in its material form,” as Macherey argues, novels offer at once a “faithful reproduction” of ideology that also “decomposes its object, and, implicitly or explicitly, exposes the internal fissures,” so that ideology starts to become undone in its very representation.14 Thus, the very objective of using fiction as a vehicle to build up a cultural mindset about empire with an impressionable juvenile audience inevitably reveals the text undercutting the very ideologies these authors are hoping to inculcate. This paradoxical tension warrants more consideration to understand the contribution of nineteenth-century cultural forms, especially typically undervalued ones like popular juvenile fiction where “colonial tensions coexist with the imperative of socializing child readers,”15 in simultaneously creating, perpetuating, and undercutting imperialist ideologies, including racial prejudice and white superiority.16

Popular literature plays a critical role in maintaining and shaping contemporary culture,17 particularly in the nineteenth century when literacy rates increased in both Britain and the

Netherlands to include a “mass reading public,”18 and publishers took advantage of the new public

Colonial Empire in Juvenile Fiction: From Jules Verne to Tintin,” Historical Reflections/Réflexions Historiques 23, no. 2 (1997): 177–203. 14 Pierre Macherey, A Theory of Literary Production, trans. Geoffrey Wall, revised ed. (London; New York: Routledge, 2012), 363. 15 Clare Bradford, “Saved by the Word: Textuality and Colonization in Nineteenth-Century Australian Texts for Children,” in Voices of the Other: Children’s Literature and the Postcolonial Context, ed. Roderick. McGillis (New York, NY: Garland Pub., 2000), 89. This project uses a similar theoretical approach as Bradford to examine imperialist ideologies. 16 Boehmer encourages reading “empire writing,” as she calls it, in order to “begin to develop a sense of the myths, tales, symbols, and self-representations that sustained empire,” Boehmer, Empire Writing, xxxv. Anne McClintock stresses looking at the relationship between textuality and institutional power found in the fissures and contradictions of colonial texts to understand how ideological categories of “whiteness and blackness, masculinity and femininity, labor and class came historically into being in the first place,” Anne McClintock, Imperial Leather: Race, Gender, and Sexuality in the Colonial Contest (New York: Routledge, 1995), 16. See also Bradford, “Saved by the Word,” 107. 17 Jeffrey Richards, “Introduction,” in Imperialism and Juvenile Literature (Manchester; New York: Manchester University Press, 1989), 1. 18 Victor Neuburg argues that in England “by the time the nineteenth century began a mass reading public was in existence,” Victor E. Neuburg, Popular Literature: A History and Guide (London; New York: Routledge, 2014), 15. It is estimated that by 1750, around 90% of men and 70% of women in London were literate, and by 1800 in the Dutch Republic, 80% of all people were literate, Roeland Harms, Joad Raymond, and Jeroen Salman, “Introduction: The Distribution and Dissemination of Popular Print,” in Not Dead Things: The Dissemination of Popular Print in England and Wales, Italy, and the Low Countries, 1500-1820, ed. Roeland Harms, Joad Raymond, and Jeroen Salman (Leiden: BRILL, 5 to sell more books. Since popular fiction often centers on “headline topics of the day,”19 its value lies in instructing its readers in society’s prevailing mores and generating support for new attitudes, arguably more effectively than other types of literature due to its plot- and genre-driven nature20 that employs the reader’s imagination21 and rarely asks for deep introspection.22 In both English and

Dutch, there is a similar correlation of popular literature, or triviaalliteratuur,23 with pleasure reading for the middle-to-lower classes; popular books are those reprinted, sold, and circulated to the wider reading public, especially targeting a younger audience.24

The term juvenile literature (jeugdliteratuur) in this project employs a narrow meaning to denote a specific subsection of books that typically targets readers approximately twelve to eighteen years old,25 separating it from children’s literature (kinderliteratuur) – for those under twelve – and

2013), 16. For an overview of Dutch literacy in the nineteenth century, see also Marita Mathijsen, Het literaire leven in de negentiende eeuw (Leiden: Nijhoff, 1988). 19 Richards, “Introduction,” 1. 20 Today, popular fiction is often identified by its “generic identity” fiting into a well-known popular literature genre (western, romance, mystery, etc.) but this system was less evident in the nineteenth century as many of these genres were just emerging. R. B. Kershner, Joyce, Bakhtin, and Popular Literature: Chronicles of Disorder (Chapel Hill; London: UNC Press Books, 1992), 10. 21 Jacqueline S. Bratton, “Of England, Home and Duty: The Image of England in Victorian and Edwardian Juvenile Fiction,” in Imperialism and Popular Culture, ed. John M. MacKenzie (Manchester; New York: Manchester University Press, 1986), 76. 22As Richards elucidates: “Popular fiction has been peculiarly potent because it feeds the imaginative life of the reader, and this may have more immediate, more emotional and arguably longer-lasting impact than any number of school lessons, political speeches or church sermons. It provides a sediment in the mind, which it requires a conscious intellectual effort to erase.” Richards, “Introduction,” 1–2. 23 Triviaalliteratuur translates literally as “trivial literature,” but is understood today variously as “merely commercial texts,” (see Sabine Vanacker, “‘As Befits Men’: The Creation of Masculinity in the Crime Fiction of Jef Geeraerts,” in Crime Scenes: Detective Narratives in European Culture Since 1945, ed. Anne Mullen and Emer O’Beirne (Amsterdam; Atlanta: Rodopi, 2000), 243.); “mass literature,” (see Jan van Coillie, Leesbeesten en boekenfeesten: hoe werken (met) kinderen jeugdboeken? (Leuven: NBD Biblion Publishers, 1999), 88.); or “pulp” (see Ludo Simons, Het boek in Vlaanderen sinds 1800 een cultuurgeschiedenis (Tielt: Lannoo, 2013), s.v. Triviaalliteratuur.). For more on triviaalliteratuur’s connection with juvenile literature, see Gerard C Brantas, “Ideologische aspecten van Nederlands-Indische kinderen jeugdboeken” (Dissertation, Rijksuniversiteit Leiden, 1989), 5–7. 24 “At its simplest, popular literature can be defined as what the unsophisticated reader has chosen for pleasure. Such a reader may, of course, come from any class in society, although the primary appeal of popular literature has been to the poor – and, by the end of the eighteenth century, also to children,” Neuburg, Popular Literature, 12. This project is only examining novels as one instance of popular literature, not other, more ephemeral textual forms, such as pamphlets, periodicals, newspapers, chapbooks, broadsides, and ballads, Harms, Raymond, and Salman, “Introduction: The Distribution and Dissemination of Popular Print,” 24. 25 Even though the term adolescence existed only closer to the mid-nineteenth century, a distinction for this age group was being made in the early nineteenth century. For more on adolescence as emerging category in Britain, see Charles 6 encompassing the young adult category (adolescentenliteratuur), which is aimed at readers approximately fifteen to eighteen.26 The term juvenile literature was not popular in English until at least the mid- nineteenth century,27 despite there being a clear division of books aimed at a juvenile audience before then.28 In Dutch, juvenile literature in nineteenth-century catalogs and inventories most often falls under classifications of “voor de jeugd” or even “kinderwerken,” with jeugdliteratuur as a more recent term.29 Authors of juvenile literature intended for their texts to educate their young audience in some way and often explicitly stated such an intent in the preface.30 These authors, therefore, mixed moments of entertainment with direct and transparent language to convey their messages and

Ferrall and Anna Jackson, Juvenile Literature and British Society, 1850-1950: The Age of Adolescence (London; New York: Routledge, 2010). For the Dutch, see Helma van Lierop-Debrauwer and Neel Bastiaansen-Harks, Over grenzen: de adolescentenroman in het literatuuronderwijs (Delft: Eburon, 2005), 20. 26 In both English and Dutch, the terms juvenile literature (jeugdliteratuur) and children’s literature (kinderliteratuur) are sometimes used interchangeably as designations for the entire group of literary texts aimed at young people from birth to eighteen years. In Dutch, as in English, there is the same division that uses kinderliteratuur primarily for books aimed at zero to twelve years old and adolescentenliteratuur at those from fifteen to eighteen, Mieke K. T. Desmet, Babysitting the Reader: Translating English Narrative Fiction for Girls Into Dutch (1946-1995) (Bern: Peter Lang, 2007), 15. Current preferred use in Dutch for the broader category of literature aimed at ages zero to eighteen years old is “kinderen jeugdliteratuur.” See Desmet, 15; Rita Ghesquiere, Jeugdliteratuur in perspectief (Leuven; Den Haag: ACCO, 2009); Coillie, Leesbeesten en boekenfeesten; B. P. M Dongelmans, Tot volle waschdom: bijdragen aan de geschiedenis van de kinderen jeugdliteratuur (Den Haag: Biblion, 2000). 27 The OED notes a long usage of “juvenile” as an adjective for youthful, or as a noun for a youthful person, but “juvenile” as a noun for a specific type of book written for youth is first cited in 1849, Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “juvenile,” accessed March 15, 2018, http://www.oed.com.proxy.uchicago.edu/view/Entry/102272. 28 The books in this project attest to that fact, even though scholars such as Patrick Dunae note that popular literature specifically for adolescent readers was not produced until about the 1860s, Patrick A. Dunae, “New Grub Street for Boys,” in Imperialism and Juvenile Literature, ed. Jeffrey Richards (Manchester; New York: Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1989), 14. 29 As is common in English at this time, many nineteenth-century Dutch subtitles indicate the target audience as juvenile by attaching “voor de jeugd” (for youth) or some variant of “voor [brave, jonge, oplettende, enz.] kinderen” (for [well- behaved, young, observant, etc.) children). A catalog of the reading library from Groningen’s Society of Public Welfare in 1885, “Afdeeling voor de Jeugd” (Youth division) stipulates that this lending library is for youth between ages twelve and eighteen, Catalogus Der Leesbibliotheek, Afdeeling Voor de Jeugd, van Het Departement Groningen Der Maatschappij Tot Nut van ’t Algemeen. (Groningen: Gebroeders Hoitsema, 1885), 1. 30 Children’s literature in general is known to have a formative function in conveying “dominant morals, values and ideals of their time and culture,” Emer O’Sullivan, “Children’s Literature,” in Imagology: The Cultural Construction and Literary Representation of National Characters: A Critical Survey, ed. Manfred Beller and Joseph Theodoor Leerssen (Amsterdam; New York, NY: Rodopi, 2007), 290. Brantas brings this up as a commonplace assumption in Dutch juvenile literature as well, Brantas, “Ideologische aspecten van Nederlands-Indische kinderen jeugdboeken,” 1989, 4. 7 ideals,31 implying that imperialist ideologies become even more evident, palatable, and effectively disseminated in popular novels for youth32 than those written for adults.33

By comparing popular Dutch juvenile literature with its better-known British counterpart, this project seeks to validate Dutch nineteenth-century literature and its more recent role in understanding the history of Dutch imperialism.34 Dutch literature from the nineteenth century is frequently overlooked as critically insignificant35 and the Netherlands itself is often overlooked as not even imperialist during this century by prominent scholars on imperialism like Hannah Arendt.36

A glance at the external historical differences between the Dutch and British Empires during the nineteenth century seems to support this: the long-standing British Empire was on the rise as the dominant world superpower annexing huge swaths of the globe, while the equally long-standing

Dutch Empire was on the decline after its seventeenth-century Golden Age,37 seen as “only a

31 As Megan Norcia insists, “Because they are written for children, the texts preserve, suspended in amber, the values and beliefs of their culture written in clear, urgent, and direct terms for children to learn,” Megan A Norcia, X Marks the Spot: Women Writers Map the Empire for British Children, 1790-1895 (Athens: Ohio State University Press, 2010), 17. 32 Rashna B Singh, Goodly Is Our Heritage: Children’s Literature, Empire, and the Certitude of Character (Lanham, Md.: Scarecrow Press, 2004), 4. 33 M. Daphne Kutzer draws a parallel to the way children’s literature “colonizes” children in the same way as the home country “tried to impose Western cultural ideals and behaviors” on the voiceless subjects in its empire, M. Daphne Kutzer, Empire’s Children: Empire and Imperialism in Classic British Children’s Books (New York: Garland Pub., 2000), xvi. See also Perry Nodelman, “The Other: Orientalism, Colonialism, and Children’s Literature,” Children’s Literature Association Quarterly 17, no. 1 (1992): 29–35. 34 Maarten Kuitenbrouwer, “Het Imperialisme-Debat in de Nederlandse Geschiedschrijving,” BMGN - Low Countries Historical Review 113, no. 1 (January 1, 1998): 56–73. In English, see Remco Raben, “A New Dutch Imperial History?: Perambulations in a Prospective Field,” BMGN-Low Countries Historical Review 128, no. 1 (2013): 5–30. For cultural forms of imperialism, see Vincent Kuitenbrouwer, “Songs of an Imperial Underdog: Imperialism and Popular Culture in the Netherlands, 1870-1960,” in European Empires and the People: Popular Responses to Imperialism in France, Britain, the Netherlands, Belgium, Germany and Italy, ed. John M. MacKenzie (Manchester; New York: Manchester University Press, 2011), 90–123. 35 Willem van den Berg, “The Nineteenth Century, 1800-1880,” in A Literary History of the Low Countries., ed. Theo Hermans (Rochester, NY: Camden House, 2013), 269–70. For a larger work recontextualizing nineteenth-century Dutch literature, but including very few authors writing for youth, see Willem van den Berg and Piet Couttenier, Alles is taal geworden: geschiedenis van de Nederlandse literatuur 1800-1900 (Amsterdam: Bakker, 2009). 36 Hannah Arendt labels the Netherlands as an “atypical” colonial power, Hannah Arendt, Imperialism: Part Two of the Origins of Totalitarianism (Boston: Houghton Mifflin Harcourt, 1968), 10n6. For other variations, see Jurrien van Goor, “Imperialisme in de marge?,” in Imperialisme in de marge: de afronding van Nederlands-Indïe, ed. Jurrien van Goor (Utrecht: HES, 1986), 10–11. 37 H. L. Wesseling, “IV. British and Dutch Imperialism: A Comparison,” Itinerario 13, no. 01 (1989): 72; Friso Wielenga, A History of the Netherlands: From the Sixteenth Century to the Present Day, trans. Lynne Richards (London: Bloomsbury Academic, 2015), 111; Nicolaas C. F. van Sas, “The Dutch and the British Umbrella 1813-1870,” in Unspoken Allies: 8 second-class power” in Europe after losing and selling colonies instead of acquiring them.38

However, despite their apparent dissimilarities, the Dutch and British imperial spheres intersected often and significantly throughout the nineteenth century, beginning, as this project does, with the

Anglo-Dutch Treaty of 1814, where Britain returned many, but not all, of the Dutch colonies they had occupied during the Napoleonic Wars.39 With this re-establishment of the Dutch Empire, the two Protestant countries resumed a relationship of alliance, where the Dutch perceived Britain as

“our most natural ally,”40 following the Third Anglo-Dutch War’s Treaty of Westminster (1674) resulting in more than one hundred years of peaceful alliance, and in light of the more concrete alliance between the two countries when William of Orange, the Prince of Orange and Stadtholder in the Dutch Republic from 1672, also became King William III of England, Ireland, and Scotland in 1689.41 Though France, Germany, or Russia may appear more fitting examples of expanding empires to compare to Britain in the nineteenth century, what interests me here is how the superficial distinction of the Dutch and British historical situation is not reflected in the imperialist ideologies depicted in their respective popular juvenile literature, but rather gives more credence to their roles as “natural” allies.

This project further substantiates the significant role played by imperialist ideologies in literature before 1880, the typical date when literary and historical studies of European imperialism

Anglo-Dutch Relations since 1780, ed. Nigel John Ashton and Duco Hellema (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2001), 34. 38 Wielenga, A History of the Netherlands, 160. Van Goor names it a “junior partnership with England,” Jurrien van Goor, “The Colonial Factor in Anglo-Dutch Relations, 1780-1820,” in Unspoken Allies: Anglo-Dutch Relations since 1780, ed. Nigel John Ashton and Duco Hellema (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2001), 17. Maarten Kuitenbrouwer notes the Dutch hope of becoming “the ‘first among the nations of the second rank’, a real middle power, because of its vast colonial empire,” Maarten Kuitenbrouwer, “Capitalism and Imperialism: Britain and the Netherlands,” Itinerario 18, no. 01 (1994): 105. 39 See appendix A for a timeline of significant events in British and Dutch imperial history. 40 Sas, “The Dutch and the British Umbrella 1813-1870,” 34. 41 King William III was known as Willem III van Oranje in the Netherlands, William III for England and Ireland, and King William II for Scotland. 9 commence. This earlier period (1814-1879) was one shaped by the termination of the Napoleonic

Wars (1815) and the Congress of Vienna (1814-1815) when both Britain and the Netherlands grappled with their changing imperialist roles in the world and the part these empires should play in shaping their youth and domestic culture. It is, therefore, a crucial period to understanding the overall development of nineteenth-century European imperialist ideologies and their critical convergence within juvenile literature.

Definitions: empire, imperialism, and colonialism in the Anglo-Dutch framework

Despite often incongruous definitions,42 this project understands British and Dutch imperialism to mean that each nation had an empire with a metropolitan base, the Netherlands or England, which claimed overseas territories as its own property and ruled in some manner over the local indigenous population, typically by an established settlement or colony often containing a small presence of

European officials, colonists, and military. Some scholars still debate whether the Dutch in the nineteenth-century considered themselves an empire, or were perceived as one by other European countries, despite their formal possession of the Dutch East Indies and Suriname, along with the exertion of Dutch rule over the Netherlands Antilles, the Dutch Gold Coast (until 1872), and their exclusive trading post with Japan on the small artificial island of Dejima (until 1853).43 Even though

42 Their use in the nineteenth century, however, points to their very Eurocentric nature: Europe is generally understood to be the metropolitan center with the rest of the world identified by its relation to it, though connections between colonies/peripheral territories that excluded the center existed. See Katie Trumpener, Bardic Nationalism: The Romantic Novel and the British Empire (Princeton, N.J.: Princeton University Press, 1997), 288–90; Kuitenbrouwer, “Capitalism and Imperialism,” 109–11. 43 Dutch scholar Remco Raben belittles the idea of a Dutch Empire due to its comparatively small size, lack of true settler colonies, and predominant interest in expansion for business purposes: “Dutch colonialism was less about ‘empire’ than about ‘opportunity.’” Raben, “A New Dutch Imperial History?,” 9–10. German historian Jürgen Osterhammel even tentatively posits the nineteenth-century Netherlands as having “colonial possessions without a colonial empire” since the Dutch Empire was reduced to two principal colonies, the Dutch East Indies and Suriname, after the loss of Ceylon and the Cape of Good Hope, Jürgen Osterhammel, Colonialism: A Theoretical Overview, trans. Shelley L. Frisch (Princeton, N.J.: M. Wiener, 1997), 18. 10

Dutch writers and historians usually avoid using the term Dutch Empire,44 they imply an already internalized conception of empire instead with the frequent use of “our colonies” (onze koloniën) or

“our possessions” (onze bezittingen).45

Though colonialism is sometimes used interchangeably with imperialism, this project distinguishes them to highlight the ideological component of imperialism that is present in literature.

Colonialism is understood more narrowly, as the physical implanting of formal or informal settlements on distant soil,46 and these settlements or colonies together with the metropolitan center then constitute an empire,47 in which imperialism, as ideology, is already inevitably present. I agree with Said’s contention that colonialism only comes about through the existence of an imperial center that supplies “the practice, the theory, and the attitudes of a dominating metropolitan center ruling a distant territory.”48 However reluctant, abstract, or unofficial an imperial center may have been, one was still necessary, and at least indirectly influential, when overseas possessions were involved.

44 Even current popular usage suggests this carryover avoidance of “Dutch Empire”: the English Wikipedia article titled “Dutch Empire” links to the Dutch Wikipedia article titled “Nederlandse koloniën.” It is described in Dutch as “dit koloniale rijk” (this colonial empire) in the first line but is a far less comprehensive article than its English (or French, Italian, Spanish) counterpart. Wikipedia, The Free Encyclopedia, s.v. “Dutch Empire,” accessed March 15, 2018, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Dutch_Empire. In Dutch, Wikipedia, de vrije encyclopedie, s.v. “Nederlandse koloniën,” accessed March 15, 2018, https://nl.wikipedia.org/wiki/Nederlandse_koloniën. 45 “Onze bezittingen,” for example, was already in use by 1783 at the end of the Fourth Anglo-Dutch War, especially in connection to lamenting how “onze bezittingen in de O. en W.I.” (“our possessions in the E[ast] and W[est] I[ndies]”) could have better been protected from the British during that war, De post van den Neder-Rhijn, vol. 3 (Utrecht: bij Gisbert Timon van Paddenburg, 1783), 1109. By the end of the eighteenth century, Suriname is already commonly referred to as a “kolonie,” whereas the Dutch East Indies were more often referred to as “onze bezittingen.” See Mos. Pa. de Leon and David de Ishac Cohen Nassy, Geschiedenis der kolonie van Suriname: behelzende derzelver opkomst, voortgang, burgerlyke en staatkundige gesteldheid, tegenwoordigen staat van koophandel, en eene volledige en naauwkeurige beschryving van het land, de zeden en gebruiken der ingezetenen (Te Amsterdam en Harlingen: Allart en Van der Plaats, 1791); Herman Willem Daendels, Staat Der Nederlandsche Oostindische Bezittingen Onder Het Bestuur van Den Gouverneur-Generaal Herman Willem Daendels, Ridder, Luitenant- Generaal, Etc. in de Jaren 1801-1811., 3 vols. (’s-Gravenhage, 1814). 46 Said understands colonialism as “the implanting of settlements on distant territory,” Said, Culture and Imperialism, 8. 47 I subscribe to Daphne Kutzer’s basic correlation of colonies with the existence of an empire: “the accumulation of colonies, formal or informal, makes up an empire.” Kutzer, Empire’s Children, xvii. 48 Said, Culture and Imperialism, 8. 11

The British may have more openly named their overseas possessions the British Empire,49 but they did not commonly apply the related term imperialism to themselves until the 1870s, as early nineteenth-century English usage equated imperialism with the despotism and tyranny of Napoleon or the Roman Empire. British Prime Minister Benjamin Disraeli is often credited as positively applying imperialism to the British Empire in his 1872 speech, shifting its context to that of military might and national superiority by asking England if it will be “an Imperial country.”50 With Disraeli’s shift in mind, imperialism today is typically understood as Boehmer defines it: “the authority assumed by a state over another territory – authority expressed in pageantry and symbolism, as well as in military and economic power.”51 Unlike the British, the Dutch did not appropriate the term imperialism for their own empire in the 1870s or after,52 viewing the term negatively with contemporary reactions of “disgust and moral condemnation”53 linked to how other empires greedily conquered and ruled.54 Imperialism purportedly did not apply to the more mercantile- oriented Dutch colonial status from the sixteenth through the twentieth centuries.55

Many historians and economists have supported this anti-imperialist Dutch belief, as when J.

Thomas Lindblad views the Dutch colonial experience as “peculiar and unique” compared to other

49 “British Empire” has been used since at least the seventeenth century, see Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “British Empire,” accessed March 15, 2018, http://www.oed.com.proxy.uchicago.edu/view/Entry/272961. 50 For this sense of imperialism, see definition 2a in the Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “imperialism,” accessed March 15, 2018, http://www.oed.com.proxy.uchicago.edu/view/Entry/92285. Green also remarks on the language and influence of Disraeli, Green, Dreams of Adventure, Deeds of Empire, 4. 51 Elleke Boehmer, Colonial and Postcolonial Literature: Migrant Metaphors (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 1995), 2. 52 Historians studiously avoided the term “imperialism” thereafter, instead referring to their activities in Indonesia as “rounding of the state” or “the establishment of Dutch authority in its Outer Regions,” or even the “unification of Indonesia.” Maarten Kuitenbrouwer, The Netherlands and the Rise of Modern Imperialism: Colonies and Foreign Policy, 1870- 1902, trans. Hugh Beyer (New York: Berg, 1992), 18–19. 53 J. Thomas Lindblad, “Economic Aspects of the Dutch Expansion in Indonesia, 1870–1914,” Modern Asian Studies 23, no. 1 (1989): 2. 54 Locher-Scholten, “Dutch Expansion in the Indonesian Archipelago Around 1900 and the Imperialism Debate,” 91. 55 Raben, “A New Dutch Imperial History?,” 9. 12

European powers,56 or when Jürgen Osterhammel argues that the Dutch Empire in the nineteenth century was “the prime example of colonial empires without imperialism.”57 As briefly mentioned previously, Arendt dismisses the Dutch Empire as an “atypical” form in her 1968 volume Imperialism: firstly, for its “curious and changing mixture of French and English methods,” suggesting the Dutch were a pale imitation of both but equal to neither; and secondly, because “the Netherlands did not expand during the eighties, but only consolidated and modernized their old possessions,” with an emphasis on their lack of participation in the so-called Scramble for Africa in the 1880s.58 More recent historians such as H.L. Wesseling have questioned whether the Dutch consolidation process really differed economically and politically from other European imperialist expansion at the time, arguing that imperialism can be applied to the Dutch situation in the nineteenth century as well.59

While expansion is a useful, if contentious, qualifier for economists and historians in delimiting imperialism and distinguishing it from colonialism,60 this project rather examines the cultural representation of imperialist ideologies found in juvenile fiction.61 The underlying premise is that the juvenile novels examined here, fictional works that include explicit imperial content, reveal contemporary imperialist ideologies. Whether or not territories technically expanded or obvious flag- waving existed, there was an undercurrent of (un)conscious ideologies in the form of cultural representation that “contributed to the complex attitudes that made imperialism seem part of the

56 Lindblad, “Economic Aspects of the Dutch Expansion in Indonesia, 1870–1914,” 1. For an overview on the Dutch position in the general literature on modern imperialism until 1985, see Kuitenbrouwer, The Netherlands and the Rise of Modern Imperialism, 17–29. 57 Osterhammel advocates for imperialism to have a necessary level of global influence that the Dutch lacked. Osterhammel, Colonialism, 22. 58 Arendt, Imperialism, 10n6. 59 Wesseling counters Arendt’s argument by questioning expansion versus consolidation in the Dutch East Indies, Wesseling, “IV. British and Dutch Imperialism,” 66–69. See also Michael J. Wintle, An Economic and Social History of the Netherlands, 1800-1920 Demographic, Economic, and Social Transition (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2000), 6. 60 See also Ania Loomba, Colonialism/Postcolonialism, 3rd ed. (London; New York: Routledge, 2015), 1–7. 61 Patrick Brantlinger summarizes this distinction: “Clearly my topic bears less directly on actual territorial aggrandizement than on the cultural expressions of that ideology which also goes by the name of imperialism.” Brantlinger, Rule of Darkness, 14. Kutzer also has a similar understanding of imperialism, xvii. 13 order of things.”62 As Gayatri Spivak reminds us, “It should not be possible to read nineteenth- century British literature without remembering that imperialism, understood as England’s social mission, was a crucial part of the cultural representation of England to the English.”63 Unlike the

British Empire, the Dutch Empire was not popularly perceived of as having a Dutch social mission component until after 1900, when the formal Ethische Politiek (Ethical Policy), the Dutch “Calvinist variant of the White Man’s Burden,” began in 1901.64 Already in the nineteenth century, however, the Dutch representation of empire in juvenile novels confirm they were equally enmeshed in culturally creating and sustaining imperialist ideologies of their own empire.

Boundaries: before the “high noon” of empire and beyond the east

Recent publications on imperialist ideology in British or Dutch literature typically commence around

1870-1880 with a designation of new or modern imperialism,65 marking a so-called “high noon”66 of empire when more evident imperialist policies, attitudes, and events surface in both Britain and the

Netherlands.67 I have chosen, instead, to focus on the period prior to this by examining the years

1814-1879, when both home countries were ruled by constitutional monarchies, a shift for the

62 Boehmer, Colonial and Postcolonial Literature, 3. 63 Gayatri Spivak, “Three Women’s Texts and a Critique of Imperialism,” Critical Inquiry 12, no. 1 (1985): 243. 64 “calvinistische variant van de White Man’s Burden,” Goor, “Imperialisme in de marge?,” 11. Wesseling notes that only in 1900 do the Dutch switch from old to new colonialism, with a certain “mise en valeur and an active rôle of the state,” Wesseling, “IV. British and Dutch Imperialism,” 71. See also “Ethical Imperialism?” in Locher-Scholten, “Dutch Expansion in the Indonesian Archipelago Around 1900 and the Imperialism Debate,” 105–7. 65 Brantlinger uses “new imperialism,” Brantlinger, Rule of Darkness, 19. Locher and Lindblad use “modern imperialism,” Locher-Scholten, “Dutch Expansion in the Indonesian Archipelago Around 1900 and the Imperialism Debate,” 91; Lindblad, “Economic Aspects of the Dutch Expansion in Indonesia, 1870–1914,” 1. 66 Catherine Hall, “Of Gender and Empire: Reflections on the Nineteenth Century,” in Gender and Empire, ed. Philippa Levine (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 2011), 48–49. Jo-Ann Wallace links this period directly to children’s literature: “it is no accident that the ‘golden age’ of English children’s literature peaked…during the high noon and faded with the dusk of Empire,” Jo-Ann Wallace, “De-Scribing The Water Babies: ‘The Child’ in Post-Colonial Theory,” in Describing Empire: Postcolonialism and Textuality, ed. Alan Lawson and Chris Tiffin (London; New York: Routledge, 1994), 176. 67 Two examples of recent British literary studies beginning around 1880: Kutzer covers roughly 1880-World War II, Kutzer, Empire’s Children. Smith focuses on women writers from 1880-1914, Michelle J Smith, Empire in British Girls’ Literature and Culture: Imperial Girls, 1880-1915 (New York: Palgrave Macmillan, 2011). For a Dutch literary example beginning at 1870, see Kuitenbrouwer, “Songs of an Imperial Underdog.” 14

Netherlands from their previous stadtholder republics, and their empires became nationalized colonies.68 I concur with Susan Legêne and Patrick Brantlinger that the earlier part of the century is as valuable for understanding imperialism as the latter,69 adding that earlier nineteenth-century literature can in fact be more complex and remarkable than its outward didacticism initially attests. I believe it necessary to understand where and how imperialist ideologies begin to emerge leading up to the influential last quarter of the century,70 providing a sense of background as well as continuity throughout the century, rather than presenting imperialist ideologies as emerging fully-formed only in the 1870s and after. To locate imperialist ideologies in juvenile literature from this earlier time, I focus on how conduct is pre- and proscribed, especially how encounters with foreign or colonial others are portrayed to establish a sense of unproblematic racial superiority, which in turn sets a guideline for future conduct that supports continued domination of colonies and further conquest of foreign lands and people.

Establishing this project with a beginning date of 1814 marks an important imperial intersection in these two countries with their Anglo-Dutch Treaty from the same year. With this treaty, the British returned many of the Dutch colonies it had occupied during the Napoleonic Wars,

68 In the case of the Dutch, the empire became nationalized at the turn of the century when the government of the Batavian Republic assumed control and responsibility for all of colonies/territories of the bankrupt West India Company (WIC) in 1792 and the East India Company (VOC) in 1800. With a new constitutional monarchy after the Napoleanoic Wars, the colonies and other foreign affairs were left almost exclusively to the king, Wielenga, A History of the Netherlands, 148. In Britain, the British East India Company remained a private company with only indirect government control until nationalization of the empire occurred following the Indian Rebellion of 1857 when India became directly ruled by the British Crown as part of the British Raj. See appendix A for a timeline of significant events in British and Dutch imperial history. 69 On the Dutch side, cultural scholar Susan Legêne takes a similar approach, arguing for 1815 as a beginning date to look for Dutch imperialist culture, noting the shift from trade in the Golden Age republic to direct government and expansion under the nineteenth-century monarchy. Susan Legêne, De bagage van Blomhoff en van Breugel: Japan, Java, Tripoli en Suriname in de negentiende-eeuwse Nederlandse cultuur van het imperialisme (Amsterdam: Koninklijk Instituut voor de Tropen, 1998), 14. For the British side, Brantlinger argues in favor of beginning his work in the 1830s with Queen Victoria’s ascension to power, contending that imperialism may have differed in the early Victorian era but already had “an easy confidence that rarely saw anything problematic about such domination,” Brantlinger, Rule of Darkness, 29. 70 Nodelman suggests that the characteristics of children’s literature from the late nineteenth century became today’s characteristics, thus marking the importance of empire in shaping children’s literature overall. Perry Nodelman, The Hidden Adult: Defining Children’s Literature (Baltimore, Md.: Johns Hopkins University Press, 2008), 273. 15 though significantly not the Cape Colony in South Africa nor the larger part of Guyana (Demerara,

Essequibo and Berbice).71 This treaty also brought about the end of Dutch participation in the slave trade, previously abolished in the British Empire with the Slave Trade Act of 1807. Although some minor colonial exchanges and clarifications took place later via the Anglo-Dutch Treaties of 1824 and 1870-71 to distinguish their respective spheres of influence in British India and the Dutch East

Indies,72 the two empires were largely constituted by 1814 as they would remain during the nineteenth century.73 Since the Netherlands was once again a sovereign nation after their annexation by France,74 formally recognized as the United Kingdom of the Netherlands under William I in

1815,75 both Britain and the Netherlands by this time were independent countries (albeit rather interdependent).76 With the Anglo-Dutch Treaty of 1814 as a starting point that draws equal

71 For a brief summary of Dutch colonial possessions in the nineteenth century, see Wintle, An Economic and Social History of the Netherlands, 1800-1920, 215. 72 The Anglo-Dutch treaty of 1824 officially demarcated the spheres of influence in the East using the Strait of Malacca, with Britain having rights over the northern territory (Malaya – present-day Malaysia and Singapore) and the Dutch to the south (Dutch East Indies – present-day Indonesia). The four Anglo-Dutch treaties of 1870-71 officially recognized Aceh and Sumatra as under Dutch influence, negotiated Dutch recruitment of workers from British India to Suriname, while ceding the Dutch Gold Coast in western Africa to Britain in 1872. 73 Even Brantlinger references “the distinction between the era from the end of the Napoleonic Wars to the Berlin Conference of 1884-85 and the New Imperialism that began in the 1880s,” Brantlinger, Rule of Darkness, ix. He argues that imperialism is still important to this earlier period but chooses to begin his study in 1830. Wintle argues that “the advent of a unitary state to replace the federal structure of the Republic makes the closing stages of the French period an intelligent place to start the history of the modern period,” Wintle, An Economic and Social History of the Netherlands, 1800- 1920, 2–3. 74 The Netherlands newly became a constitutional monarchy, unlike the stadtholder republic of earlier centuries and the brief popular democracy of the Batavian Republic (1795-1806) founded with the support of revolutionary France. 75 Willem I (William I) ruled the Low Countries as a united whole, which included not only the Protestant Northern Netherlands but also the Catholic Austrian Netherlands to the south (Belgium), the Prince-Bishopric of Liège, and Luxembourg. 76 Not an even interdependency, the Netherlands was arguably more dependent on Britain for supporting its union with the former Austrian Netherlands (present-day Belgium), returning its occupied overseas territories, and protecting the latter with superior British maritime prowess. Britain, however, was still dependent on the Netherlands for serving as a “bulwark of Europe against French revolution” to balance power relations on the European continent, while other European powers, such as Russia, would not have allowed Britain to keep all of its Dutch colonial conquests overseas, nor did Britain itself desire that, even seeing them as “millstones,” Sas, “The Dutch and the British Umbrella 1813- 1870,” 35–36. Van Goor notes that the British and Dutch had long had a special relationship, and at this time in Britain, “expansion of the colonial domain was not always the most attractive proposition” with doubts about colonial profitability, leading Britian to return Dutch overseas territories and re-establish a European balance of power, van Goor, “The Colonial Factor in Anglo-Dutch Relations, 1780-1820,” 27–28. 16 attention to both nations, this project also contributes to situating a Dutch literary perspective of imperialism in comparison to the dominant anglophone one that has drawn the majority of attention of English-speaking scholars.77

The 1870s in both nations marked greater awareness of their imperial worlds and changes in their imperial policies, due largely in part to a major geographical alteration that impacted travel and trade around the world: the Suez Canal opened in 1869.78 With its opening, travel time significantly shortened to the eastern parts of both empires, and the British quickly became the biggest users of the canal, with the Dutch third highest after the French.79 Though scholars writing on British imperialism differ on its exact beginning depending on how broadly they interpret the term, they agree that it reaches a new level sometime after 1870 and assuredly after 1880, that of a “British high empire”80 that resembles the most self-conscious, and militarized definition of imperialist rule and expansion.81 For the Dutch, historians argue for a new current of Dutch imperialism in the 1870s by noting several significant imperial actions: ending the cultivation system (cultuurstelsel) in the East

Indies with the Agrarian Law of 1870 in conjunction with the influence of Multatuli’s famous novel

77 “[T]he lion’s share of theoretical and empirical scholarship on colonial history has revolved around the British Empire, especially in India.” Julia Ann Clancy-Smith and Frances Gouda, “Introduction,” in Domesticating the Empire: Race, Gender, and Family Life in French and Dutch Colonialism (Rutgers University Press, 1998), 4. 78 Raben notes for the Dutch, “Only after 1870 did more people travel to (and increasingly also from) the colonies, which changed the character of colonial societies but also enhanced the imperial awareness in the Netherlands and in the colonies,” Raben, “A New Dutch Imperial History?,” 15. 79 Though initially opposing the construction of the Suez Canal, which was built by a French engineer using primarily with Egyptian and French funding, Britain quickly became the biggest user of the canal since it cut the time from Britain to British India at least in half, Robert T. Harrison, Gladstone’s Imperialism in Egypt: Techniques of Domination (Westport; London: Greenwood Publishing Group, 1995), 43–44, 72. The Dutch became the third highest users of the Suez Canal after the British and French by 1876, since the Suez Canal shortened shipping routes to the Dutch East Indies from 120 days around the Cape to 40 days by steamship through the canal, Kuitenbrouwer, The Netherlands and the Rise of Modern Imperialism, 73–74. 80 Boehmer argues for “the phase of British high empire, embracing the years 1870 to 1918,” which was “a more officially expansionist, assertive, and self-conscious approach to empire than had been expressed before,” Boehmer, Empire Writing, xv. This widens the chronological parameters set by Eric Hobsbawm in his book, E. J. Hobsbawm, The Age of Empire, 1875-1914 (New York: Vintage, 1989), 57. 81 “By defining imperialism exclusively as an officially sanctioned policy of the direct military seizure and government of one nation or territory by another, historians sometimes come close to discovering that imperialism did not exist before about 1880,” Brantlinger, Rule of Darkness, 7. 17

Max Havelaar published ten years earlier;82 selling the remaining Dutch African colony, the Dutch

Gold Coast, to the British in 1872 to concentrate on consolidating the Dutch East Indies’ territories;83 and beginning the long and contentious Dutch military campaign for control of the province of Aceh in 1873 that remained active until 1914.84 Since so many scholars point to the changes in both countries beginning in the 1870s as critical to the development of modern imperialism, selecting 1879 as an end point allows for the inclusion and exploration of this significant, transitional decade. This project establishes a critical prequel to 1880’s modern imperialism, providing context and continuity on imperialism in juvenile literature written before that date to substantiate the claims of recent critical works on imperialism that begin only with literature written after 1880.

Geographically, to draw broader conclusions about imperialist ideology across both empires, this project is not limited to juvenile novels that are set in or refer to people from each country’s prominent eastern colonies.85 The Dutch East Indies and British India have attracted the most scholarship on imperialism in literature, both for adults and children, yet I believe letting eastern colonies stand in for the whole empire to be a limitation when examining instances of nineteenth- century imperialist ideologies, particularly as the makeup and size of the population and governing policies varied by colony.86 Other parts of empire, especially those where Dutch and British interests

82 Kuitenbrouwer, “Songs of an Imperial Underdog,” 95; Multatuli, Max Havelaar, of De koffij-veilingen der Nederlandsche handelsmaatschappij (Amsterdam: J. de Ruyter, 1860). 83 Wesseling, “IV. British and Dutch Imperialism,” 66. 84 Kuitenbrouwer, “Songs of an Imperial Underdog,” 95–96. 85 I excluded the explicit categories of nonfiction and schoolbooks as less likely to have been read for pleasure. I also omitted serials and magazines, lighter reading also containing valuable content on empire, from this project since their format and publishing record are better served by a different analytical treatment than novels. 86 On the Dutch side, the whole of Dutch colonial literature is often presumed synonymous with the Dutch East Indies as “Indies literature,” Robert Nieuwenhuys, Mirror of the Indies: A History of Dutch Colonial Literature, trans. Frans van Rosevelt (Amherst, Mass.: University of Massachusetts Press, 1982), xxiv. See also “Indisch-Nederlandse literatuur,” Theo D’haen, “Inleiding,” in Europa buitengaats: koloniale en postkoloniale literaturen in Europese talen, vol. 1 (Amsterdam: Uitgeverij Bert Bakker, 2002), 8. An early hypothesis of mine was that perhaps the Dutch, with their narrow historical focus on the 18 were adjacent or overlapping, i.e., the British and Dutch West Indies, including Suriname and British

Guiana,87 and South Africa and the Cape Colony,88 bring with them an inevitable focus on slavery in the nineteenth century that calls attention to the distinct timelines of abolition in the Dutch and

British Empires, and the divergent histories of slavery in western, southern, and eastern colonies.89

To take just one of these regions as an example, the West Indies featured prominently in both Dutch and British juvenile literature throughout the century, as illustrated in the juvenile fiction examined in the chapters that follow, even though both countries had turned their economic focus eastward.90 The West Indies were no longer the profitable sugar colonies they had been in the eighteenth century.91 Critical attention has likewise focused on representations of eastern colonies in juvenile literature, creating a significant, erroneous gap in our understanding of empire in nineteenth-century juvenile literature, as Karen Sands O’Connor argues: “Contemporary children’s- literature scholars often ignore the importance of the West Indies within the British Empire after

East Indies, had a distorted perception of themselves as not being imperialist based only on their relationship with that colony and its representation in Dutch literature. 87 Although typically only Caribbean islands fall under the category of the Dutch or British West Indies, Suriname and British Guiana were both under the purview of the Dutch and British West Indian Companies, and thus in this project, I include Suriname as part of the Dutch West Indian colonial heritage, though I acknowledge Suriname is certainly not representative of the historic Dutch West Indies as a whole. 88 Even though the Dutch no longer possessed any territories in South Africa during this time period, Vincent Kuitenbrouwer has shown that the Dutch became reinterested in South Africa and its Dutch descendants again around 1880 with the first Boer War; I would argue that South Africa retained a presence in Dutch juvenile literature throughout the century, see Kuitenbrouwer, “Songs of an Imperial Underdog,” 103. 89 Oostindie notes that eastern slaves performed more urban duties, were often of the same ethnic background as the local population, and only made up a small percentage of the population, versus western plantation economies where African slaves performed agro-industrial labor and made up the majority of the population, Gert Oostindie, “Migration and Its Legacies in the Dutch Colonial World,” in Dutch Colonialism, Migration and Cultural Heritage, ed. Gert Oostindie (Leiden: KITLV, 2008), 11. 90 In the section discussing Anglo-Dutch relations in the East and West Indies from 1870-1914, Maarten Kuitenbrouwer only provides one brief paragraph on the West Indies, stating “both Britain and the Netherlands considered the West Indies to be of much less interest than their Asian colonies,” Maarten Kuitenbrouwer, “Related but Unequal Partners in Imperialism, 1870-1914,” in Unspoken Allies: Anglo-Dutch Relations since 1780, ed. Nigel John Ashton and Duco Hellema (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2001), 48. 91 The Dutch even considered selling their West Indian colonies around midcentury. Gert Oostindie, Postcolonial Netherlands: Sixty-Five Years of Forgetting, Commemorating, Silencing (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2011), 146; Kuitenbrouwer, “Songs of an Imperial Underdog,” 91. 19 emancipation, and by this ignorance imply a paucity of attention to this area of the world in

Victorian literature. In actuality, however, the West Indies played a regular and important role in

British children’s literature.”92 This project promotes a better awareness of the role the West Indies played in shaping a juvenile perception of empire, though admittedly it is only a beginning and more research is still needed.93 By looking beyond Dutch and British eastern colonies to the West Indies, and to a lesser degree to South Africa and Australia, this project advances a broader understanding of imperialism in nineteenth-century juvenile literature in and across both empires.

Organization: conduct at home in domestic tales and abroad in adventure novels

How the novels prescribe appropriate conduct with colonial or foreign others, whether at home or abroad, structures each chapter since behavioral patterns underwrite imperialist ideologies. The inconsistencies and silences present in these chapters open the possibility for the reader to realize that the novels’ superficial imperialist messages are often more convoluted than they initially appear.94 Each of the three chapters that follow examines representative examples from a popular genre in juvenile fiction during the beginning, middle, and end of the 1814-1879 timespan: domestic

92 Karen Sands-O’Connor, Soon Come Home to This Island: West Indians in British Children’s Literature (London; New York: Routledge, 2013), 41. 93 Even locating West Indian characters is difficult since many novels’ titles rarely reflect any imperial content and thus prove difficult to locate based on title alone. Kempen lists six total juvenile works set in Suriname published between 1850-1880. (See Michiel van Kempen, “Literatuur – Surinamistiek (IBS): Koloniale Literatuur – Literatuur van Niet- Surinamers over Suriname,” accessed January 17, 2017, http://www.surinamistiek.nl/literatuur/.) In comparison, Dorothée Buur’s bibliography lists 76 works connected to characters from or set in the Dutch East Indies from 1826- 1880. Dorothée Buur, Indische jeugdliteratuur: geannoteerde bibliografie van jeugdboeken over Nederlands-Indië en Indonesië, 1825-1991 (Leiden: KITLV, 1992). 94As Bratton rightly points out, modern critical assessment of these books is likely different than how a contemporary juvenile reader would have interpreted them, with many external factors such as the level of literacy of the reader and their interests and background, as well as shifts in sensibility, Jacqueline S. Bratton, The Impact of Victorian Children’s Fiction (London: Routledge, 2015), 23. Still, acknowledging the existence and possible interpretations of these more complex layers and silences is important to understanding juvenile literature’s role in shaping imperialist ideologies, even if not all readers were aware of them. 20 moral tales from the late 1810s, early adventure novels from the 1840s, and later adventure novels from the 1870s.95

In selecting specific novels for each chapter, I first established the genre’s popular authors from that period, based initially on those cited in general surveys of children’s literature,96 along with their quantity of new and reprinted publications.97 Each of the authors selected published more than a dozen juvenile works, several churned out numbers closer to one hundred.98 Individual novels were chosen with both explicit imperial content and those reprinted at least once, or those

95 See appendix B for titles of all the Dutch juvenile novels considered for this project. Historical fiction, one of the most popular genres of the nineteenth century, was initially included in this project, but was removed to focus on books set roughly contemporaneously. Historical fiction has proven worthy of its own separate treatment, both due to the large quantity of Dutch and British juvenile novels that fall into this genre and the unique relationship it has with empire by transposing contemporary imperial concerns onto historical contexts. This is briefly touched on in connection with the Dutch novel, Adda, examined in the third chapter. 96 For British print surveys: Frederick Joseph Harvey Darton, Children’s Books in England: Five Centuries of Social Life (Cambridge: The University Press, 1932); Roger Lancelyn Green, Tellers of Tales; an Account of Children’s Favourite Authors from 1839 to the Present Day, Their Books and How They Came to Write Them, Together with an Appendix Giving the Titles and Dates of These Books. (Folcroft, Pa.: Folcroft Library Editions, 1974); Peter Hunt, An Introduction to Children’s Literature (Oxford: Oxford Univ. Press, 2009). For Dutch print surveys: D. L Daalder, Wormcruyt met suycker: historisch-critisch overzicht van de Nederlandse kinderliteratuur met illustr. en portretten (Amsterdam: De Arbeiderspers, 1950); Harry Bekkering and Netty Heimeriks, De hele Bibelebontse berg: de geschiedenis van het kinderboek in Nederland & Vlaanderen van de middeleeuwen tot heden (Amsterdam: Querido, 1989); Rita Ghesquiere, Vanessa Joosen, and Helma van Lierop-Debrauwer, Een land van waan en wijs: geschiedenis van de Nederlandse jeugdliteratuur (Amsterdam: Uitgeverij Atlas Contact, 2014); P.J. Buijnsters and Leontine Buijnsters-Smets, Lust en leering: geschiedenis van het Nederlandse kinderboek in de negentiende eeuw (Zwolle: Waanders, 2001). Core digital references consulted: Centraal Bestand Kinderboeken - CBK (http://picarta.pica.nl/DB=3.34/); digitale bibliotheek voor de Nederlandse letteren – dbnl (http://www.dbnl.org/); NEWW Women Writers (http://resources.huygens.knaw.nl/womenwriters); NINES – Nineteenth-century Scholarship Online (http://www.nines.org/); Nineteenth-Century Collections Online - NCCO (http://gdc.galegroup.com.proxy.uchicago.edu/gdc/ncco); WorldCat (http://www.worldcat.org/); Google Books (https://books.google.com/). 97 Harms et al. point out that the existence and use of lending libraries and the like in the nineteenth century affect our understanding of print runs and popularity, Harms, Raymond, and Salman, “Introduction: The Distribution and Dissemination of Popular Print,” 23. 98 See appendix C for a brief biographical and bibliographical overview of the six authors whose works are closely examined in this project. 21 commencing a series,99 implying either a demand for a second edition or volume by young readers – more likely by their parents or teachers100– or a hope by the publisher to profit from the novel.101

The first chapter examines domestic moral tales of the late 1810s to demonstrate that this genre, despite its domestic focus,102 was nonetheless extremely influential in introducing juvenile readers to empire and shaping their perceptions of imperialism.103 Already popular and prevalent by the nineteenth century in both countries,104 domestic moral tales emphasized education over entertainment and contained recognizable types in a sermonizing plot that often took place in a rural setting. In contrast to an urban or colonial setting, both of which were already associated with bad conduct in literature by the early nineteenth century,105 the rural British or Dutch setting established a nurturing environment for learning and reforming proper female conduct with a temperate climate, which was thought of as better than a tropical climate associated with “hot” tempers, sickness, and vice. The two representative examples considered here, Barbara Hofland’s Matilda; Or

The Barbadoes Girl. A Tale for Young People (1816),106 and Petronella Moens’ De jonge Sofia (The young

99 J.H. van Balen’s Adda (1879), in chapter three, is the lone exception and was chosen to highlight his early work along with a Dutch perspective on the East African slave trade at the end of the 1870s. It was only printed once, presumably because it was published under a pseudonym by the otherwise popular and prolific Dutch author. 100 Children’s books were rarely selected or bought by the children reading them, but rather by their parents, guardians, or teachers. Gerard C Brantas, “Ideologische aspecten van Nederlands-Indische kinderen jeugdboeken,” Documentatieblad kinderen jeugdliteratuur 3, no. 12 (1989): 24; Bratton, The Impact of Victorian Children’s Fiction, 20. For the idea that children’s literature hangs on an impossible relation between adult and child, see Jacqueline Rose, The Case of Peter Pan, Or the Impossibility of Children’s Fiction (Philadelphia: University of Pennsylvania Press, 1984). 101 Frits Booy, “Waardering En Gebruik van Negentiende-Eeuwse Kinderboeken,” in Tot Volle Waschdom. Bijdragen Aan de Geschiedenis van de Kinder- En Jeugdliteratuur, ed. Berry Dongelmans et al. (Den Haag: Biblion Uitgeverij, 2000), 237. 102 Killick, British Short Fiction in the Early Nineteenth Century, 76. Killick’s book provides an excellent overview of the moral tale genre though does not discuss the connection of the moral tale with the British Empire beyond Scotland, Ireland, and Wales. 103 Supriya Goswami, Colonial India in Children’s Literature (London; New York: Routledge, 2012), 50–51. 104 Lewis C. Roberts, “Children’s Fiction,” in A Companion to the Victorian Novel, ed. Patrick Brantlinger and William Thesing (Oxford; Malden, MA: Blackwell, 2008), 361; Buijnsters and Buijnsters-Smets, Lust en leering, 21–43. 105 B. I. Coleman, The Idea of the City in Nineteenth-Century Britain (London: Routledge & Kegan Paul, 1973), 3. For more on the urban-rural dichotomy, see Raymond Williams, The Country and the City (New York: Oxford University, 1973). 106 Barbara Hofland, Matilda; or The Barbadoes Girl. A Tale for Young People. (London: Printed at the Minerva Press for A.K. Newman and Co. Leadenhall-Street, 1816). 22

Sofia, 1819),107 both send a seemingly straightforward message about the superiority of the mother country. The tales bridge the realms of the domestic and the imperial by using female conduct reform to push an overarching paternalistic imperialist agenda to occupy and civilize colonies as ill- mannered children in need of strong parental guidance from the model imperial center.

Yet, their direct messages, gaps and contradictions draw attention to and reform their imperialist ideologies. The novels initially relegate the colonies to an inferior position, preferably separated entirely from the domestic center, but they are both careful to highlight the productive use of colonial experience and its racial hierarchy to positively shape domestic female conduct, especially through personal encounters with (former) slaves and new understandings of family. By opening a space for the positive influence of empire in the domestic sphere, the novels not only convey uncertainty about empire’s increasing domestic presence, common to the early nineteenth century, but also deliberate how to employ new female colonial identities to national, and domestic, advantage. Though perhaps straightforward in their moralizing, both tales reveal more complicated imperialist messages than their plots initially suggest.

Unlike chapter one’s tales that outwardly criticize female conduct as corrupted from colonial encounters, chapter two’s early adventure novels from the 1840s institute a gender divide to advance male conduct as improved through time spent abroad. As a newly emerging genre for juvenile

107 Petronella Moens, De Jonge Sofia (Amsterdam: Schalekamp en Van de Grampel, 1820). Although the publication date listed is 1820, the book appeared on Saake’s list of new books for 1819, A. B. Saakes, Naamlijst van Nederduitsche boeken, als mede van Fransche en Latijnsche werken, oratiën, dissertatiën, konstprenten, pourtraitten, landkaarten, enz. gedurende de jaaren ... in ons vaderland uitgekomen /., vol. 7 (Amsterdam: C.L. Schleijer, 1819), 88. 23 readers often linked to rising imperialism,108 these early adventure novels targeted young men109 who were more likely to go abroad.110 In the second chapter, Masterman Ready (1841) by Captain Frederick

Marryat,111 one of the most popular juvenile Robinson Crusoe stories of the nineteenth century,112 is examined alongside an original Dutch adventure novel by Anthony Engbertus van Noothoorn,

Reizen en lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman in de Nederlandsch West-Indische bezittingen (The travels and fortunes of Gustaaf Westerman in the Dutch West Indian possessions, 1843),113 the second installment in his larger Reizen en lotgevallen (Travels and fortunes) series. The imperialist message is that empire, seen as an unquestioned national asset, makes a young man successful and posits him as more identifiably British or Dutch through encounters with other peoples, lands, and customs, even when he has to re-form his conduct to adapt to hot climates and different social mores to succeed in a colonial society. The lead male characters in these early adventure novels model superior conduct

108 Young people had long been reading adventurous accounts originally penned for adults, such as Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe (1719) and Bontekoe’s Journael (1646). Daniel Defoe, The Life and Strange Surprizing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe of York, Mariner: Who Lived Eight and Twenty Years, All Alone in an Un-Inhabited Island on the Coast of America, near the Mouth of the Great River of Oroonoque; ... Written by Himself. (London: printed for W. Taylor, 1719); Willem Ysbrandsz Bontekoe, Journael ofte gedenckwaerdige beschrijvinghe vande Ost-indische reyse. (Hoorn: Deutel, 1646). For more on the juvenile adventure genre and its connection to empire, see Green, Dreams of Adventure, Deeds of Empire, 220; Boehmer, Colonial and Postcolonial Literature, 74; Brantlinger, Rule of Darkness, 12; John M. MacKenzie, “Imperialism and Juvenile Literature,” in Propaganda and Empire: The Manipulation of British Public Opinion (1880-1960) (Manchester; Dover, N.H.: Manchester University Press, 1984), 199–227. Roberts offers “imperial fantasy” as an equivalent for “adventure tale,” Roberts, “Children’s Fiction,” 362. 109 White men typically outnumbered white women more than two to one throughout the nineteenth century. Fewer white women lived abroad in colonies until after mid-century and really only toward end of nineteenth century, with the Suez Canal opening in 1869 helping with emigration to eastern colonies. P. J. Marshall, The Cambridge Illustrated History of the British Empire (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2001), 246–47. 110 Dennis Butts directly correlates the rise of juvenile adventure fiction in Britain with the rise of the British Empire in the nineteenth century: “This appetite for adventure stories coincided with Britain’s emergence from the Napoleonic Wars as a great military and naval power, with an expanding empire and a growing enthusiasm for foreign enterprises,” Dennis Butts, “Shaping Boyhood: Empire Builders and Adventurers,” in International Companion Encyclopedia of Children’s Literature, ed. Peter Hunt (London; New York: Routledge, 1989), 324. 111 Frederick Marryat, Masterman Ready; or, The Wreck of the Pacific. Written for Young People., vol. 1, 3 vols. (London: Longman, Orme, Brown, Green, & Longmans, 1841). 112 Robinson Crusoe proved so popular it even spawned its own subgenre of adventure story, the robinsonade, of which Swiss Family Robinson (1812) and Masterman Ready are prime examples from the early nineteenth century. For an overview, see Martin Green, “The Robinson Crusoe Story,” in Imperialism and Juvenile Literature, ed. Jeffrey Richards (Manchester; New York: Manchester University Press, 1989), 34–52. 113 Anthony Engelbertus van Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, in de Nederlandsch West-Indische Bezittingen (Amsterdam: Sijbrandi, 1843). 24 toward slaves and “savages,” and articulate early versions of imperialist ideologies that depict colonies as inferior, yet infinitely lucrative assets, both of which lay the groundwork for the confident imperialist enthusiasm that emerges more forcefully later in the century.

The novels use this reformation of masculine conduct to outwardly overcome the limits of empire explicitly addressed in the texts: the historical impermanence of national empires, the challenges of successful settlement programs, the social and moral issues of slavery, and the difficulty in controlling vast interiors with unruly populations. Examples of patriarchal conduct counter these difficulties in order to provide a semblance of control that sustains imperialist ideologies and a sense of imperial longevity, even while it draws attention to internal class issues.

Though both novels conclude as upbeat success stories for their main juvenile protagonists thanks to their time spent abroad, their uneven messages throughout repeatedly undermine masculine imperialist agency and question whether colonies can be so superficially understood as unmitigated positive assets both in terms of personal conduct and personal, and national, wealth.

Whereas chapters one and two focus on reforming white, European male and female conduct at home and abroad so as to foster paternalistic imperialist ideologies of colonial and racial inequality, the third chapter turns to reforming African conduct abroad, reinforcing and re(-)forming

European stereotypes of Africans. Chapter three compares British and Dutch responses to the contemporary humanitarian cause of the East African slave trade, often referred to as the Arab slave trade, by examining two later adventure novels from the 1870s: Robert Michael Ballantyne’s Black

Ivory: A Tale of Adventure among the Slavers of East Africa (1873)114 and Johan Hendrik van Balen’s Adda:

114 Robert Michael Ballantyne, Black Ivory: A Tale of Adventure among the Slavers of East Africa (London: James Nisbet & Co., 1873). According to Ballantyne’s biographer Eric Quayle, Ballantyne was inspired by a report of an anti-slavery meeting, Eric Quayle, Ballantyne the Brave: A Victorian Writer and His Family. (London: Hart-Davis, 1967), 261–62. 25 de lotgevallen van een slaaf (Adda: the fortunes of a slave, 1879).115 Both of these novels urge a humanitarian stance over an abolitionist one, pushing for a sense of common humanity between white Europeans and black Africans in order to foster a positive ideology of paternalistic imperialism. The novels primarily do this by drawing attention to one exemplary black African in each text initially portrayed as a “noble savage,” then later praised for his admirable conduct that meets European “civilized” standards, despite never gaining equal status.

While the demonstration of common humanity ostensibly supports the call for ending the

East African slave trade and justifies imperialist intervention, the way this message is presented produces gaps and conflicting depictions that draws attention to Christianity’s role in national civilizing missions, discredits slavers’ rights to East Africa, which conceals their own countries’ slave-trading pasts, and covers unresolved class and racial tensions with their positive resolutions.

Although Black Ivory and Adda both conclude with successful outlooks for their exceptional nearly-

European African characters, the texts limit it to situations and places that ultimately reveal the reformed “noble savage” figure as threatening the jingoistic imperialist agenda in the novel.

Throughout all of these novels, the juxtaposition of a white, European self with a colonial or foreign, often black other to illustrate appropriate conduct is used to uphold and justify imperialism, because, as Spivak argues, “the project of imperialism has always already historically refracted what might have been the absolutely Other into a domesticated Other that consolidates the imperialist self.”116 Though these popular novels have more ambiguity and contradictions than their seemingly straightforward plots suggest, sometimes even going against the author’s stated intent, they unsurprisingly still fulfill the role of creating ideologies that ultimately perpetuate nineteenth-century

115 Kapitein Hendrik Verveen [Johan Hendrik van Balen], Adda: de lotgevallen van een slaaf (Schiedam: Roelants, 1879). 116 Spivak, “Three Women’s Texts and a Critique of Imperialism,” 253. 26 imperialism. However, rendering imperialist ideologies in material form “exposes the internal fissures” and begins to break them down, as Macherey contends,117 which then leaves possible openings for the implied white juvenile reader to interpret new imperialist identities, families, and ideologies. Popular juvenile novels from the nineteenth century certainly form and reform their contemporary mores and, depending on how they were read, may have been understood as only fostering a positive sense of paternalistic imperialism. But the way appropriate conduct is constructed within them reveals that they also contain complicated interdependencies between narrative and imperialism that uphold and disrupt imperialist ideologies of racial superiority, giving popular juvenile novels a crucial role in understanding nineteenth-century imperialism.

117 Macherey, A Theory of Literary Production, 2012, 363. 27

Chapter 1

Reforming female conduct at home:

Deliberating colonial identity in early nineteenth-century domestic moral tales

Moral tales, despite their typical domestic focus, played a central role in the early nineteenth century in introducing and shaping perceptions of empire for girls.1 This chapter will focus on how two examples of the popular genre,2 Matilda; Or The Barbadoes Girl. A Tale for Young People (1816) by

British author Barbara Hofland (1770-1844) and De jonge Sofia (The Young Sofia, 1819) by Dutch author Petronella Moens (1762-1843),3 express wariness about imperialism’s domestic impact on female conduct. Both novels identify moments of undesirable comportment in domestic society as more than merely childish bad behavior. Rather, both authors frame these instances as symptoms of a larger problem of disquieting female colonial identity with its resulting entitled conduct in need of domestic reform. Yet, both texts reveal inconsistencies in this outward imperialist ideology that open up other variations and possibilities for colonial identity in reforming conduct at home.

Hofland’s Matilda and Moens’ Sofia were selected because of each author’s contemporary national popularity and the representative nature of her contribution to early nineteenth-century

1 Supriya Goswami argues for the importance of not overlooking early women’s novels in connection with empire: “early nineteenth-century British women writers such as Sherwood and [Hofland] had begun familiarizing young readers with colonial concerns long before Marryat, R.M. Ballantyne, G.A. Henty, and Rudyard Kipling – their more famous mid- to late nineteenth-century male counterparts – had popularized the imperial adventure story,” Goswami, Colonial India in Children’s Literature, 50–51. 2 Moral tales were popular throughout the nineteenth century but especially in the first half of the century. Lewis Roberts notes the lasting popularity of moral tales: “The moral tale as a genre thrived in the eighteenth century, and throughout the Victorian period…[these tales] were still commonly read,” Roberts, “Children’s Fiction,” 361. For the longevity and popularity of Dutch moral tales, see the chapter titled: “De leerschool van de Deugd: moralistische vertellingen,” in Buijnsters and Buijnsters-Smets, Lust en leering, 21–43. 3 Hofland, Matilda, or, The Barbadoes Girl; Moens, De Jonge Sofia. All translations from Dutch are my own unless otherwise indicated. 28 juvenile moral tales,4 specifically those with explicit colonial content. Written typically by women in

Britain, but by both men and women in the Netherlands,5 domestic moral tales were often classified in English as a “tale,” or “vertelling” in Dutch,6 though these designations lent more credibility to the text not being a “novel” than implying a shorter length.7 Novels were still pejoratively dismissed as frivolous entertainment in the first two decades of the nineteenth century in Britian,8 but public perception began shifting about that time so that by the 1840s, “the English novel had achieved eminence as the aesthetic form and as a major intellectual voice, so to speak, in English society.”9

Hofland and Moens may have labeled them moral tales for credibility, but they were writing and contributing to the shape and perception of early moralizing novels. Moens’ popularity did not extend beyond national borders, while Hofland’s popularity reached well beyond England, with several of her novels also translated into Dutch.10 Even the reiteration of Sophia in the names of the titular protagonists – Hofland’s Matilda Sophia Hanson and Moens’ Sofia Groenendal – suggests the possibility that the Dutch Sofia directly cites the earlier English Matilda, though historical

4 For Hofland, see Darton, Childrens Books in England, 215–16; Killick, British Short Fiction in the Early Nineteenth Century, 92; Butts, “Finding and Sustaining a Popular Appeal: The Case of Barbara Hofland.” For Moens, see Buijnsters and Buijnsters-Smets, Lust en leering, 30–37; Frits Huiskamp, Naar de vatbaarheid der jeugd: Nederlandstalige kinderen jeugdboeken 1800-1840: een bibliografische catalogus (Leiden: Primavera Pers, 2000), 278–84. 5 In their chapter on the Dutch moral tale, Buijnsters and Buijnsters-Smets profile five male and four female authors, and note that the Dutch follows a similar pattern of male and female authors like France and Germany, but that the genre in Britain was dominated by women writers, Buijnsters and Buijnsters-Smets, Lust en leering, 21–43. 6 Moral tales were listed under the heading of “moral story” (“[een] zedekundige verhaal”) in the 1815 Algemeene Boekenlijst, though modern Dutch usage more typically classifies them as a “moralistische vertelling,” Buijnsters and Buijnsters-Smets, 17, 21. Even nineteenth-century contemporary usage translates English “tale” as “vertelling,” as a Dutch schoolbook for learning English from 1844 attests, G. Engelberts Gerrits, First English Reading-Book, Or Instructive and Familiar Lessons: Adapted to the Capacities of Those, Who Begin to Study the English Language, and Provided with the Translation of the Most Difficult Words and Phrases (Amsterdam: G. Portielje, 1844), 94. 7 Many moral tales from the 1810s were as long as contemporary novels. For example, the two in this chapter are 254 pages (Matilda) and 185 pages (Sofia). 8 Killick, British Short Fiction in the Early Nineteenth Century, 17–18, 90; Jackie C Horne, History and the Construction of the Child in Early British Children’s Literature (Farnham: Ashgate, 2011), 4. 9 Said, Culture and Imperialism, 71–72. 10 The online index of Dutch children’s literature held in Dutch libraries, the Centraal Bestand Kinderboeken has at least three titles by Hofland translated into Dutch. “Centraal Bestand Kinderboeken – CBK,” accessed March 15, 2018, http://picarta.pica.nl/DB=3.34/. 29 circumstances point toward mere coincidence that both novels contain a Sophia/Sofia connected to national colonies.11

Although Matilda and Sofia may not share a direct historical connection, both moral tales illustrate that young girls must learn how to conduct themselves in a proper, selfless manner so as to develop spiritually and morally to become model women in domestic society. The texts are less straightforward, however, than their surface lessons in proper conduct indicate. Spoiled, unruly behavior by characters in these novels is directly linked to a sense of entitlement and indolence caused by the family’s colonial wealth, the latter producing conduct accepted as customary in colonial society, but as distasteful and unwelcome in metropolitan society, and needing a certain domestic setting and family structure to evince reform. Yet, both texts do not merely condemn all colonial social norms and conduct. They also point out the domestic benefits for female formation that occur by using different cultural practices, even encounters with (former) slaves, and other familial structures to cultivate a positive sense of imperialism domestically. Even though Hofland and Moens were writing for young women in two different countries, their popular juvenile texts exhibit corresponding imperialist ideologies that not only depict colonies as inferior compared to the superior metropole, due mainly to their negative influence on young women’s conduct, but that also interrogate and partially reform that very idea.

11 Although Matilda was reprinted frequently in Britain and America, I have been unable to find any evidence that this particular title by Hofland was ever translated into Dutch. Since Moens was blind from a young age, she was read to only in Dutch, never having learned English. Moens’ scholar Ans Veltman confirmed that no titles by Hofland were in Moens’ personal library and it was unlikely that she had read this work by her. Veltman noted that Moens typically used the name Sofia to indicate ‘wijze vrouwen’ (wise women). Ans Veltman, email message to author, August 2, 2016. A year before Sofia was written, Moens used the same structure of sisters, Lotje and Sophia, conversing with their mother over the Dutch fatherland, suggesting a parallel with the twins in Sofia and a similar colonial leaning with Lotje: Sophia asks religious questions while Lotje asks practical ones, initiating the conversation by asking if a black servant from the West Indies would consider the Netherlands his fatherland, Petronella Moens, “Lotje en Sophia met haare moeder. Een gesprek over het vaderland.,” in Bloempjes der vreugde, voor de lieve kindsheid (Haarlem: François Bohn, 1818), 70–91. 30

Both titles, featuring a female protagonist, present the works as moral tales for girls, a popular yet safely didactic genre that would appeal to vigilant parents or other adult intermediaries who were actually buying these books.12 Moens’ preface explicitly states her intention for Sofia to be read by juvenile girls, even specifying an age range in the opening poem dedicated to “Merry

Growing Girls from ten to sixteen, or more Years.”13 Although Matilda’s subtitle “A Tale for Young

People,” proclaims that Hofland, or at least her publisher, intended this work for all youth, the story’s immediate emphasis on instructing an overindulged young girl in a domestic household implies a gendered audience.14 The second part of Hofland’s title, The Barbadoes Girl, posits Matilda’s female identity as colonial, reiterated in the running headers within the text shortened to “The

Barbadoes Girl.”15 This title neatly draws on the appeal of a far-flung colony that was topically relevant in 1816 following a failed slave rebellion,16 while still packaging it safely as a moral “tale” for

12 Children’s books were rarely selected or bought by the children reading them, but rather by their parents, guardians, or teachers. See Nodelman, The Hidden Adult, 207; Brantas, “Ideologische aspecten van Nederlands-Indische kinderen jeugdboeken,” 1989, 24; Bratton, The Impact of Victorian Children’s Fiction, 21. 13 “De Vrolijke Opluikende Meisjes van tien tot zestien, of meer Jaren,” Moens, De Jonge Sofia, III. In her preface, Moens expresses her concern for a lack of original Dutch reading material available for juvenile girls: "But specifically, for girls, who, if I may express myself so, are beginning to outgrow the stream of general children’s books, little or nothing has yet been written originally in our national language so far as I know. I thus ventured to offer my SOFIA GROENENDAL.” (“Maar afzonderlijk, voor meisjes, welke, mag ik mij dus uitdrukken, den stroom van algemeene kinderboekjes beginnen te ontgroeijen, is, zoveel ik weet, in onze vaderlandsche taal, oorspronkelijk, nog weinig of niets geschreven. Ik waagde het dus, om mijne SOFIA GROENENDAL in het licht te geven.”) Moens further indicates that this novel should be viewed as the female companion to her previously published De kleine Willem (1814), reiterating her interest in providing both age-appropriate and gender-specific material. Moens, I–II; Petronella Moens, De kleine Willem, of Het huisgezin van den heer Lausbach (Amsterdam: J. ten Brink Gerritsz, 1814). 14 Contemporary boys certainly could, and did, read this type of novel, though a female protagonist likely attracted more girl readers. A rare existing diary entry of ten year-old boy Otto van Eck from July 1791 reveals that he read a moral tale with a titular female protagonist, De kleine Clarissa, published that year from popular Dutch author, Maria Geertruida de Cambon-Van der Werken. Otto van Eck, Het dagboek van Otto van Eck (1791-1797), ed. Ariane Baggerman (Hilversum: Verloren, 1998), 37; M.G. de Cambon-van der Werken, De kleine Klarissa (in ’s Hage: by J.F. Jacobs de Age, 1790). 15 Due to space considerations, lengthy titles were often shortened for running headers. Yet, here it significant that the longer of the two phrases was chosen from the title. It is difficult to know the level of involvement Hofland had in the publication process, but it is likely that she had very little say. Beginning with the second edition in 1818, the title removed Matilda’s name entirely, Barbara Hofland, The Barbadoes Girl: A Tale for Young People, 2nd ed. (London: Printed at the Minerva Press for A.K. Newman and Co., 1818). 16 The largest failed slave insurrection in the history of Barbados, more commonly known as Bussa’s Rebellion, took place in April 1816, the same year Matilda was published, though the latter was likely penned and published prior to the event since the text makes no mention of slave uprisings in the sections discussing slavery on Barbados. It seems likely, however, that the publisher would have capitalized on the timely coincidence to sell more copies. 31 hesitant parents. Presenting a character from the colonies as a cautionary moral tale further insinuates that domestic audiences may have already perceived British girls in the colonies as a worrying category in need of the reform requisite to a moral tale.17 Whereas Matilda’s title suggests problematic female conduct learned abroad, De jonge Sofia’s shorter title neither implies a colony nor states that it is even a tale,18 relying instead on Moens’ reputation as a didactic author and her preface, directed at adults,19 to convey its genre. Only in the opening chapter does it become evident that Suriname will play an important role in character development of young girls. With the exclusive emphasis on Sofia in the title, preface, and opening poem, Moens designates colonial

Suriname as ancillary to Sofia’s moral development, merely an opening plot device to contrast the two different families into which Sofia and her twin sister Lotje are placed upon their father’s departure for the colony. Though the story’s didactic lessons take precedence, the impact of Mr.

Groenendal’s colonial wealth motivates Lotje’s tyrannical conduct, while the structuring absence of the colony via letters, discussions, and former slaves decidedly colors both Lotje’s and Sofia’s perceptions of their place in domestic society and the Dutch Empire. Sofia’s title may pass over its colonial connection, but that connection proves just as necessary in the Dutch moral tale as in the

British one to understanding the narrative’s message of colonial identity and appropriate female conduct.

17 Although Matilda is targeted at domestic audiences in Britain, the novel’s setting in England cannot be inferred from the title and this ambiguity may have been intentional for wider appeal. 18 The only implication is that the protagonist, being “young” in the title, presumably matures. 19 Prefaces specifically aimed at adults were typical, as Emer O’Sullivan remarks: “In children’s literature of the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries, adult intermediaries were informed explicitly by authors, in forewords or afterwords intended especially for them, that the work in question was a children’s book,” Emer O’Sullivan, Comparative Children’s Literature, trans. Anthea Bell (New York: Routledge, 2005), 15. 32

Reforming conduct and re-forming domestic families with new colonial variations

Both authors present the domestic realm, specifically a particular paternalistic family structure located in the nurturing countryside, as an ideal location to reform the harmful nature of entitled female conduct. However, the clear binary between positive domestic conduct and negative colonial conduct is undermined when the texts suggest, even favor, creating an expanded colonial family on domestic soil that contributes to the protagonists’ improvement by reinforcing, not eradicating, the otherness of her colonial identity.

In the opening pages of Matilda, the narrative uses a polite yet frank conversation between

Mr. Harewood and his three children regarding Matilda’s arrival from Barbados to establish her colonial identity as distinct from theirs and provide the framework for appropriate domestic conduct by contrasting Barbados as inferior. Though cognizant of Barbados’ location “on the other side of the globe,” the children are uncertain of the differences between their own upbringing and Matilda’s colonial one.20 When the father explains that Matilda will be accompanied by a “negro servant,”

Ellen’s response shows that even the youngest Harewood child is aware of other races and a sense of white identity as purportedly superior: “when she parts with the good nurse, I dare say she will kiss her very fondly, though she is a black.”21 The novel more explicitly stresses a causal relationship between knowledge and superiority reflected in proper domestic behavior when the middle

Harewood child, Charles, naively misconstrues the concept of worldliness: “Oh, she will forget her sorrow when she sees such a many things that are quite new to her; I’m afraid she’ll think Ellen, and indeed we boys, very silly, ignorant creatures compared to her, who has seen so much of the world; upon my word, we must all be upon our good behavior!”22 Charles mistakes worldliness as a

20 Hofland, Matilda, or, The Barbadoes Girl, 4. 21 Hofland, 4. 22 Hofland, 4. 33 geographical, not social or intellectual concept, but is quickly corrected by his eldest brother,

Edmund, as to the inferiority of education in the colonies, which the father readily confirms.

Having established that Barbados is inferior to England, Mr. Harewood leads his children, who model appropriate responses for the juvenile reader, to conclude that colonial Barbados is also entirely distinct from England. Despite the island being possessed by Britain for more than two hundred years at that point,23 Mr. Harewood speciously categorizes it as a separate foreign country operating without English influence:

It must however strike you, that in coming from a distant country, a society very distinct from ours, and a race of beings to whom you are strangers, she cannot fail to possess many ideas and much knowledge which are unknown to you; but if the advantage should prove to be on your side, I trust you will never abuse it by laughing, or in any way insulting or teazing your visitant: such conduct would ensure my most serious displeasure.24

Mr. Harewood concedes that Matilda could have advantages over his children given her different life experience, but the wording suggests that these “ideas” are more likely unknown to his children because they are inappropriate by domestic standards. His final caution foreshadows Matilda’s bad behavior, attributing it to her residence abroad as distinct from England. Before Matilda even arrives, she is already carefully distinguished as other, even foreign, due to her colonial upbringing, despite her similarity in age, race, and citizenship to the Harewood children. As the novel reveals, she is not simply imputed with childish behavior, rather she is assigned a more degraded character due to the ill effects of plantation society and its daily encounters with slaves.

Unlike Matilda’s opening chapter with its clear division between domestic and colonial spaces, Sofia’s opening chapter does not begin with the separation of Dutch colonial possessions

23 Barbados was claimed for England in 1625 when thirty settlers aboard the ship William and John, commanded by John Powell, created the first settlement. Robert H Schomburgk, The History of Barbados (London: Longman, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1847), 79. 24 Hofland, Matilda, or, The Barbadoes Girl, 6. 34 from the Netherlands writ large. Instead, the narrator casually refers to Mr. Groenendal owning property in “one of our West-Indies colonies (volkplantingen),”25 implying a juvenile reader already aware of the Dutch nation’s colonies in the west. The use of the possessive pronoun, “our,” both reinforces Suriname’s recent return from the English interregnum to national Dutch control in

181626 and claims the colony as “ours,” as part of the nation’s possessions rather than a separate foreign country.27 The Dutch word used here for colonies, volkplantingen, taken in its literal sense as the overseas “planting of (national) people” can also be translated as settlement and underscores the idea that these are Dutch people merely settled elsewhere geographically.28 This sense of undisputed ownership and strong connection between the colony and mother country signal the extent to which the Dutch West Indies, as an acceptable imperialist endeavor, was already integrated into Dutch national identity in the early nineteenth century.29 Since the colonies of the Dutch West Indies were not viewed as completely distinct places, conduct specific to only a colonial locale was likewise less clearly demarcated, and Lotje, though never setting foot in a colony, embodies the same entitled female conduct as in Matilda that is categorized as more than spoiled, but also as worryingly colonial.

25 “een onzer West-Indische volkplantingen,” Moens, De Jonge Sofia, 4. 26 R. A. J. van Lier, Frontier Society: A Social Analysis of the History of Surinam, trans. Maria J. L. Yperen (Dordrecht: Springer Science & Business Media, 2013), 34. 27 After British occupation during the Napoleonic Wars, other Dutch West Indian settlements near Suriname were not returned. Berbice, Essequibo, Demerara, and Pomeroon stayed under British control to become British Guiana in 1831. 28 In translating “volkplantingen” here as colony, I took my cues directly from the text where twice Sofia’s character uses “kolonie” and “volkplanting” as interchangeable synonyms in the same sentence, Moens, De Jonge Sofia, 84, 156. The use of “volkplanting” appears more often and seemingly more deliberately in the novel, suggesting its preferred use by the Dutch at this time for their own colonies. (Volkplanting/volkplantingen appears thirteen times, kolonie/koloniën three times, West/West-Indiën six times, and Suriname twice.) English also uses the idea of planting related to colonies, but usually in the phrase “planting a colony,” a subtle difference. 29 Following the liquidation of the private Dutch West India Company in the early 1790s, the Dutch government, first as the Batavian Republic, then later under King William I as the Kingdom of Holland, took over administering the Dutch West Indies as national colonial possessions. 35

Sofia uses twin protagonists to establish the superiority of the Dutch countryside as an ideal nurturing environment over the Dutch city and implied Dutch colony.30 Sofia and Lotje are billed as equally happy from birth, but Sofia benefits more from living in the Dutch countryside with the principled Van Dijk family, a family similar to the Harewoods in Matilda. Mr. Van Dijk assumes the role of the authoritative, yet kind father figure revered by his wife and children. Mrs. Van Dijk fills the exemplary maternal role, initially quite literally when she begins nursing Sofia along with her own infant daughter, and she continues to inculcate the cheerful duties of cultivating plants and learning religious precepts. This family structure, with its countryside location, is held up as one to emulate.

Conversely, Lotje’s new urban family configuration lacks the structure provided by a strong patriarchal family with a venerable maternal figure, leaving Lotje lacking appropriate moral, spiritual, and behavioral guidance in a less ideal location. Despite the presence of two adult women, her aunt and her grandmother, Lotje has been raised to be fully aware of the higher social status her father’s colonial wealth entitles her to in domestic Dutch society, especially in a city, where more emphasis is placed on social class as explicitly noted in a letter from the grandmother: “She [Lotje] knows that her father is rich and that there thus exists a very large distinction between her and the child of a common bourgeois, of a gardener, a farmer, or a day laborer.”31 The grandmother and aunt believe that Lotje has a right to behave contemptuously given her elevated social status, derived primarily from the influence of the family’s colonial wealth, which places her beyond discipline and buys her the privilege of habitual entitled, tyrannical, and indolent conduct:

LOTJE was willful, haughty, and she could absolutely not tolerate having any child with her who did not give her everything and do her bidding. All the servants had to do this too or

30 B.I. Coleman notes that by the early nineteenth century, “an antithesis between country good and city evil was already something of a literary convention,” Coleman, The Idea of the City in Nineteenth-Century Britain, 3. For more on the urban- rural dichotomy, see Williams, The Country and the City. 31 “Zij weet, dat haar vader rijk is, en dat er dan ook heel veel onderscheid bestaat tusschen haar en tusschen het kind van een’ gemeen’ burger, van een’ tuinman, een’ boer, of een’ daglooner,” Moens, De Jonge Sofia, 33. 36

LOTJE was peevish and malicious. Because of this, no one loved her. All of the children shunned her, and none of the servants went out of their way to give her any pleasure.32

The epitome of an overindulged female child with terrible conduct analogous to one from the colonies, Lotje only begins to show signs of improvement once she joins Sofia under the care of Mr. and Mrs. Van Dijk, stressing the domestic value of a patriarchal family in a rural setting. The novel’s motivation of the negative domestic influence of colonial wealth in an urban all-female setting complicates the simple binary between healthy countryside and harmful city.

Though Matilda does not set up an explicit city-country dichotomy like Sofia, the narrative implicitly endorses raising children in smaller, rural towns via the Harewood family’s exemplary status and positive, sheltered experience in the orderly countryside. Instead of focusing on a comparison between city and country, the novel sets up a parallel comparison regarding climate disparities between colony and mother country that promotes the benefits of the English countryside.33 The narrator specifies Matilda’s own belief in the influence of the cool English climate on her overall conduct: “She imputed the change, which could not fail to be remarked, to the climate, and unquestionably it is easy and pleasant to be active in a cold country than a hot one; but her friends were well aware that the change in her mind was greater than that of her country...”34

The idea of a hot climate naturally causing a hot temper was common in the early nineteenth century

32 “LOTJE was eigenzinnig, hoogmoedig, en zij kon volstrekt geen kind bij haar dulden, wanneer dit haar niet alles toegaf, en voor haar inschikte. Dit moesten ook al de dienstboden doen, of LOTJE was gemelijk en boosaardig. Dit maakte dan ook, dat geen mensch haar liefhad. Alle kinderen schuwden haar, en niet een der dienstboden beijverde zich, om haar eenig genoegen te geven,” Moens, 32. 33 Although she focuses on imperial georgic poetry, Karen O’Brien highlights the same transfer of contrasting country and city to contrasting colonies and mother country: “The opposition between the country and the city, abridged by the imperial georgic, was thus replayed in the later eighteenth century as the opposition between colonies and mother country, with ideological results similar to those described by Raymond Williams.” Of note, I believe Matilda aligns the two in opposite fashion - the mother country with wholesome countryside and colony with vices of the city. Karen O’Brien, “Imperial Georgic 1660-1789,” in The Country and the City Revisited: England and the Politics of Culture:1550-1850, ed. Gerald MacLean, Donna Landry, and Joseph P. Ward (Cambridge: Cambridge Univ. Press, 1999), 176. 34 Hofland, Matilda, or, The Barbadoes Girl, 56. 37 and was particularly associated with colonies in tropical locations,35 as this text makes clear by revealing the interconnection between climate, temper, and the colonial institution of slavery:

“[Matilda] could only …display, in all their native hideousness, such traits of ill-humour, petulance, ungovernable fury, outrageous passion, and vile revenge, as are the natural offspring of the human heart when its bad propensities are nurtured by indulgence, particularly in those warm countries, where the mind partakes the nature of the soil, and slavery in one race of beings gives power to all the bad passions of another.”36 The narrator finds that hot climates naturally beget vices, yet acknowledges that more than a physical change in location is needed to remove these traits symptomatic of colonial society in a tropical climate.

In addition to a change in clime, the text insists that Matilda needs the firm and stable guidance provided by the structure of a patriarchal family, as exemplified by the Harewoods. The calm, authoritative Mr. Harewood represents the embodiment of British paternalism: he knows what is best for his family and does not hesitate to reprimand any child in his house, including Matilda as an ill-behaved colonial child, reinforcing the white English male as head of the imperialist hierarchy and colonies as children. Mr. Harewood is sharply contrasted with Matilda’s own indulgent, hot- tempered, and commanding father who never punished her, undercut his wife’s authority over

Matilda, and died in Barbados due to “diseases incident to the climate.”37 As this depiction indicates,

35 Historically, there was a perceived European split between northern and southern countries having different temperaments, with Italians, for example, having a warm disposition, Joep Leerssen, National Thought in Europe: A Cultural History (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2006), 65. For a contemporary Dutch perspective on the influence of climate and topography on the moral character of the Dutch people, Ysbrand Van Hamelsveld, De Zedelijke toestand der Nederlandsche natie op het einde der 18de eeuw, door Ijsbrand Van Hamelsveld. (Amsterdam: J. Allart, 1791), 134–45. Related to colonial locations, see William Falconer’s late eighteenth century text on effects of climate, especially “Chapter IV: Effects of Heat on the Temper and Disposition” which links warm climates to temper, vindictiveness, and indolence, William Falconer, Remarks on the Influence of Climate, Situation, Nature of Country, Population, Nature of Food, and Way of Life, on the Disposition and Temper, Manners and Behavior, Intellects, Laws and Customs, Form of Government, and Religion, of Mankind (London: Printed for C. Dilly, in the Poultry, 1781), 6–14. 36 Hofland, Matilda, or, The Barbadoes Girl, 75. 37 Hofland, 1. Zebby’s comments provide insight on Mr. Hanson’s lenient parenting style: “she [Matilda] was spoily all her life by poor massa – her mamma good, very good; and when Missy pinch Zebby, and pricky with pin, then good 38

Matilda’s father stands in for deteriorated British standards of conduct acceptable in colonial society that prove worrisome to domestic life at home and abroad in the empire.

Even more than pleasing a new model father figure,38 Matilda desires to please her strong surrogate mother, Mrs. Harewood, who draws attention to the numerous maternal figures in the text and the different, contradictory family structures they create. Mrs. Harewood’s function as her children’s moral compass instills in Matilda a strong desire to become worthy of her love: “‘[D]ear

Mrs. Harewood! oh, you are my English mother, and I love you much more than any other person in the world, except my Barbadoes mamma.’”39 Matilda’s formal relationship with Mrs. Harewood as a maternal figure, echoed here in her choice to use “mother” instead of “mamma,” contrasts sharply with Matilda’s informal and disrespectful relationship with her own mother. Mrs. Harewood’s role as

Matilda’s “English mother” reminds the reader that Matilda now has at least two mothers in the novel. Though Matilda recognizes a filial obligation to keep her colonial “Barbadoes mamma” prioritized above her “English mother,” the longing in Matilda’s words equally acknowledges the high value the text ascribes to the model British mother.40 Mrs. Harewood fills the role of a strong maternal figure needed to shape and perfect the immature colonial child, representing the British mother country of England, while Mrs. Hanson comes to represent the weaker, other mother country of colonial Barbados.41 In this sense, Matilda not only has two primary mother figures, but

Mississ she be angry, but massa say only poo, poo, she be child, naughty tricks wear off in time; he be warm man himself,” Hofland, 16–17. 38 “but yet there was something in the calm, firm tones of Mr. Harewood, when he spoke to her, and in this present open, yet unbending countenance…she yet felt as if his esteem, and indeed his forgiveness, were necessary for her happiness.” Hofland, Matilda, or, The Barbadoes Girl, 20–21. 39 Hofland, 95. 40 Although Matilda differentiates these two mothers by their home countries, the actual situation is vague since it is unclear if Matilda’s mother was born in the West Indies or England. 41 Critic Megan Norcia remarks that nineteenth-century women writers often used a familial allegory to advocate for “a system of imperial governance based in a model of familial responsibility through which colonial children could be perfected and shaped by a firm parent country.” Norcia, X Marks the Spot, 33. 39 also two mother countries: Barbados and England. Though Matilda tends to see Barbados as home and England as a foreign country instead of the superior home country, the novel’s metropolitan perspective signals an underlying uneasiness with the way indistinct colonial identity may obscure female, possibly even national, identity.

The presence of at least two other maternal figures in Matilda’s life suggests the domestic possibility of an expanded, female colonial family that contrasts with the explicitly favored patriarchal structure modeled by the Harewood family. In one sense, before she even arrives in

England, Matilda already has two mothers, since her slave Zebby has mothered and indulged an ungrateful Matilda from birth without the authority to discipline her. But the final maternal figure to appear in the text expands Matilda’s sense of family in England and assures its colonial nature. After moving out of the Harewood household, Matilda and her mother take in a recently-arrived now- penniless widow from Jamaica, Mrs. Weston, and her spoiled daughter, Harriet. Employed as

Matilda’s new governess, Mrs. Weston becomes yet another maternal figure who mentors and educates Matilda, albeit in a different capacity as the novel implies that anyone from the colonies cannot be in possession of untainted English qualities in the same way as Mrs. Harewood or even the English governess employed in the Harewood household.42 With the addition of the two Weston women, Matilda’s immediate family has now become a household made up of all colonial females, opening up the possibility of a new domestic familial configuration, one made up of all colonial women without a male figurehead.

42 The English governess employed by Mrs. Harewood assists with conduct reform by enforcing proper English behavior. Historically, the employment of a governess in Britain developed in the second half of the eighteenth century and peaked in popularity between 1840-1880, with the new middle class hiring a governess to cement their new status and wealth, Gerald G Newman and Leslie Ellen Brown, eds., Britain in the Hanoverian Age, 1714-1837: An Encyclopedia (New York: Garland Pub., 1997), s.v. Governesses. For more on the role of the governess in the second half of the nineteenth century, see Kathryn Hughes, The Victorian Governess (London: Hambledon and London, 2001). 40

The narrative suggests that this expanded, female colonial family is acceptable, even encouraged, since both daughters from the colonies continue to eradicate their unfavorable conduct in this uniquely maternal domestic setting that emphasizes their colonial identity. Matilda even takes up a mothering role with Harriet to improve the latter’s undesirable behavior from the colonies. Yet, this new configuration works because it also reinforces these characters’ colonial identities as West

Indians, homogenizing them as the same type of foreigner to set them apart, even while they are also included in the broader identity of being British and expected to integrate into society.43 Although the novel opens up possibilities for an alternative, successful all-female colonial family on domestic soil, the novel’s endorsement of it remains temporary. Each girl marries one of the Harewood boys -

Matilda marries Edmund and Harriet marries Charles. Matilda and Harriet then become identified primarily as proper wives, dependent on their paternalistic husbands to keep any resurfacing negative conduct in check, ultimately highlighting the superiority of domestic conduct and the patriarchal family structure represented by the Harewood family, while insisting on the perniciousness of irremovable conduct that underpins both of their colonial identities.

As already mentioned, Sofia inverted Matilda’s positive all-female colonial/urban family with

Lotje’s aunt and grandmother proving an ineffective variation, but Sofia also inverts Matilda’s negative father figure from the colonies by having Sofia and Lotje’s father, Mr. Groenendal head up different, yet positive configurations of an expanded literal and metaphorical family necessitated by his circumstances in the colonies. Despite his long stay abroad, the text takes care to remind the reader that Mr. Groenendal remains an exemplary paternal figure, caring about the upbringing of his daughters and neither falling victim to the hot colonial climate nor the potentially destructive

43 Although sometimes recognized as separate foreign countries, the West Indian colonies appear to also be grouped here as one entity, with the same social and moral conduct systems applicable to them all. 41 influence of slavery. Mr. Groenendal takes on the role of father for other white children in the colonies who have lost their parents, maintaining their wealth and plantation holdings. He is also portrayed less as a master than as a benevolent father to the slaves he views as fellow Christian

“brothers.”44 Even his own two West Indian plantations are portrayed as additional symbolic dependents in his new colonial family abroad. Their initial description mirrors that of his own daughters: Mr. Groenendal must leave his two “healthy, comely little daughters” in “blushing health” to return to the West Indies, since “he was in danger of losing two beautiful, blooming plantations in the most unjust way.”45 His two plantation “children” are more in need of the firm hand and personal presence of a strong father figure from the parent country than his two Dutch daughters. Though they contribute heavily to the family’s financial well-being, the plantation daughters are never presented as equal to their Dutch sisters, emphasizing the ascendancy of the

Dutch vaderland and the dependency of the inferior colonies on paternal guidance.46 The novel’s attitude of paternalistic superiority over its dependent colonies conveys a strong, unified national identity in the form of a traditional patriarchal hierarchy, perhaps hoping to use iterations of a successful colonial family to instill in its audience a “love of the fatherland” (vaderlandsliefde).47

After Mr. Groenendal returns home, he draws on his experience in Suriname to organize a similarly expansive type of colonial family on domestic soil that the text supports as a favorable, if

44 “broederen,” Moens, De Jonge Sofia, 99. 45 “gezonde, bevallige dochtertjes,” “blozende van gezondheid,” and “hij liep gevaar, om twee schoone, bloeijende plantaadjen op de onregtvaardigste wijze te verliezen,” Moens, 2, 5. 46 Although this configuration of plantations dependent on the father country supports the traditional paternalistic superiority of the fatherland, the reverse is also true at this time for the Netherlands. It needs the income generated by its colonies to fill its coffers after being under France’s control. 47 “Love of the fatherland” is the literal translation from Dutch, more often translated into English as patriotism or nationalism. Moens’ work often hopes to instill it, as noted in her titles and by critics, Moens, “Lotje en Sophia met haare moeder. Een gesprek over het vaderland.”; Lia van Gemert, “A Blind Beacon: Petronella Moens,” in Women’s Writing from the Low Countries 1200-1875: A Bilingual Anthology, ed. Lia van Gemert (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2010), 455. 42 divergent, configuration of a patriarchal family, since it counterintuitively helps Lotje improve her entitled behavior by reinforcing, not minimizing, her colonial identity. Mr. Groenendal has not remarried so remains at the head of the family by himself when he moves back into his house with his two daughters, though in one sense, Sofia steps into the role of exemplary mother figure by running household affairs. Although far away, the two plantations hold a domestic presence in the family by supplying continual wealth.48 But it is the presence of three other dependents that forces

Lotje to more directly confront and embrace a reformed understanding of her colonial identity. Mr.

Groenendal arrives home with two former slaves, not merely as labor, but also as part of the family since he had “solemnly promised to care for” them upon their father’s deathbed.49 Sendor and

Gama become domestic servants for the Groenendal family, accepted as part of the larger, colonial family but decidedly inferior to Sofia and Lotje. As part of their integration into the family, and larger national culture, both Sendor and Gama are baptized with Christian names, Johannes and

Maria. While Sendor/Johannes eventually leaves to make a living on his own, Gama/Maria stays with the family as a loyal housemaid, suggestive of the stereotypical trope of the freed slave still loyal and grateful to her master. The final addition to this growing colonial family is that of the white foundling Mina, whom Sofia has taken under her wing.

Lotje initially cares for neither Gama nor Mina, but their presence in the family makes her consider her social beliefs of racial and class structures. Mr. Groenendal’s return and presence in the second half of the novel draws attention to his role as a benevolent colonial patriarch who creates a new type of colonial family domestically, one that accepts all types of dependent children even if

48 The colonial plantations remain a part of the family as far as the reader is aware until the penultimate chapter when Mr. Groenendal learns that the majority of his wealth is gone due to a European bank going bankrupt. Only then does the reader learn that Mr. Groenendal had “recently sold all of his possessions in the West” (“die onlangs zijne bezittingen in de West had verkocht”), Moens, De Jonge Sofia, 165. 49 “plegtig beloofde voor zijne kinderen te zullen zorgen,” Moens, 106. 43 they are not all on even footing. The new Groenendal family continuously reminds the reader of the family’s colonial identity, colonial wealth, and its connection with slavery, which ultimately provides a beneficial situation for Lotje to improve her colonial conduct, as the next section will demonstrate.

Didactic domestic encounters with former masters and former slaves

These two tales utilize their entitled, selfish protagonists to not only morally condemn slavery but to also counterintuitively demonstrate how slavery can be used productively to improve their conduct through encounters with former slaves and discussions about slavery. Matilda and Lotje share a strong attentiveness to colonial slavery, a topic of much debate and regularly censured in the British and Dutch empires at this time.50 Although the narratives formally establish their protagonists’ selfish interest in slavery in two different ways in the text – Matilda has personal experience with slave society that Lotje lacks – both novels attribute the girls’ improved comportment in part to how their relationship with slavery changes after they are in an ideal domestic setting and encounter former slaves.

While Matilda becomes a better-behaved and more charitable person in fits and starts under the careful guidance of Mrs. Harewood and exemplary peer Ellen, the narrator and other characters do not allow Matilda, or the reader, to forget that she was brought up by slaves in colonial Barbados, ascribing her alternating passionate temper and “that bodily indolence which was natural to her as a

West-Indian” to Matilda’s sense of power over her family’s slaves, who catered to her every whim and physically carried her around.51 The Harewoods and the narrator even refrain from using her

50 The Dutch outlawed the slave trade in 1814 as part of The Anglo-Dutch Treaty of 1814; Britain had already forbidden it in 1807 with the Slave Trade Act. In both cases, though the slave trade was outlawed, slavery was still allowed in the colonies at this time, although it was illegal on metropolitan soil. 51 Hofland, Matilda, or, The Barbadoes Girl, 114. Sands-O’Connor points out that giving Matilda contradictory traits, indolent yet passionate, was more common in writing about black West Indians at this time, most of whom were still slaves, Sands-O’Connor, Soon Come Home to This Island, 14. 44 name, calling Matilda the “the young foreigner” and “the Barbadoes girl” after she arrives on

English soil.52 By not naming her, the text suggests that Matilda’s character stands in for a generic female, foreign colonial identity that is directly linked to ill-conduct in the colonies, reiterating that the spoiled conduct is not Matilda’s personal actions and choices but that of a Barbados girl, ascribing blame to the colonial type and not the individual. Matilda’s first name only begins to be used once Mr. Harewood commences “the English education of Matilda” with the “management of her temper.”53 As she begins to conform to domestic English norms and reflect on her own behavior, Matilda’s name is stated in the text, signaling a link with her improving conduct and the formation of a new English identity.

Yet, despite the novel’s push to show Matilda becoming more English, her evolving relationship with Zebby most readily reveals the underlying paradox in place in the text: at moments when Matilda’s conduct most significantly improves to allow her to assimilate appropriate domestic standards, her colonial identity is brought even more to the forefront to reiterate her otherness, specifically in connection with Zebby. Most critical attention paid to Matilda’s connection with empire stops early in the novel to discuss only one incident when Matilda throws a glass of beer into

Zebby’s face to prove her authority, revealing her unchecked, white colonial upbringing.54 But later incidents reveal Matilda’s altering perspective of her relationship with Zebby that indicate an underlying anxiety about colonial influences on domestic identity. Flummoxed by seeing her first snowfall, Matilda declares it to be “thousands and thousands of little white feathers coming from the

52 Hofland, Matilda, or, The Barbadoes Girl, 9–10. 53 Hofland, 11. 54 This scene is featured as one of the few illustrated plates in the novel. The following critical sources highlight the beer- flinging incident: Sands-O’Connor, Soon Come Home to This Island, 14–15; Mitzi Myers, “Reading Children and Homeopathic Romanticism: Paradigm Lost, Revisionary Gleam, or ‘Plus Ça Change, Plus C’Est La Même Chose’?”,” in Literature and the Child: Romantic Continuations, Postmodern Contestations, ed. James Holt McGavran (Iowa City, 1999), 55; Trumpener, Bardic Nationalism, 169. Trumpener mistakenly calls the beer a cup of scalding tea. 45 skies, as if the angels were emptying featherbeds upon the earth.”55 Instead of ridiculing her, the

Harewood children respectfully explain the real nature of snow. In light of their kind consideration,

Matilda openly avows herself inferior to them and nearly as ignorant as a slave: “Oh no, European children know every thing, but I am little better than a negro; I find what your mamma said was very true; I know nothing at all.”56 Although Matilda neither uses the word slave nor names Zebby,

Matilda implicitly compares herself here to Zebby in her former capacity as a slave; in Matilda’s ordinary colonial existence, almost all negroes are slaves and Zebby is the only negro character in the novel, besides being the one that Matilda knows best. Matilda may use negro as a negative point of reference, but her comparison lessens the gap between Zebby and herself,57 even if it does not erase the racial gap implicit in the colonial hierarchy.

Differentiation by race appears to be erased, however, later in the text when Zebby becomes gravely ill and Matilda now recognizes her not only as a person, even a friend, but also as sharing the same colonial identity: “one whom she no longer considered her slave, and little better than a beast of burden, but as her country-woman, her friend.”58 The text’s surface message ostensibly emphasizes how much Matilda has reformed and grown in appropriate domestic conduct to be able to see Zebby as more than merely a former slave. Yet, the comparison drawn underscores her colonial identity in ways that undercut that very domestic integration. On one hand, Matilda does collapse the white/black racial binary by pitting Zebby and herself as fellow countrywomen, but that very act of grouping them together as fellow outsiders from England reinforces the binary of

55 This utterance is unusually footnoted in the first edition of the novel: “This is verbatim the language of a little West Indian,” Hofland, Matilda, or, The Barbadoes Girl, 45–46. The footnote does not appear in later editions. 56 Hofland, 48. 57 Matilda again likens herself to a negro when she later states her desire to beg forgiveness for her insolence from her mother: “if I could kneel at her feet, if I could humble myself lower than the lowest negro to my dear mamma,” Hofland, 76. 58 Hofland, 108. 46 domestic/colonial otherness. Though Matilda has begun to acclimate to England, she still views herself as a non-native Englishwoman with a certain appreciable affinity to another West Indian, despite the latter’s race, former status as slave, and much less successful adjustment to England.59

Both Matilda and Zebby desire to return to their “native country” of Barbados.60 It is thanks to

Matilda’s continued encounters with her former slave that the reader really sees Matilda’s desire to improve her conduct to meet domestic standards, even while the text reinforces their shared foreign colonial identity and raises a sense of anxiety about the domestic influence of colonial identity’s permanence.61

Lotje may lack lived experience in colonial Suriname to shape her colonial identity in the same way as Matilda, but Lotje’s world is distinctly shaped by the benefits of her father’s colonial wealth and her selfish interest in the products and financial profits of slave labor from there.

Though the novel reproaches Lotje’s entitled materialistic behavior while it praises her sister’s philanthropic spiritual behavior, Lotje’s particular interest in her father’s plantations sets up a dialogue on the moral implications of the institution of slavery that shows Lotje as more than simply a negative foil to Sofia where all colonial conduct is bad: Lotje is also shown to be adept at raising

59 Zebby has been much slower than Matilda to acclimate to England, though the text condescendingly dismisses it because she is “Poor Zebby,” an “unenlightened negro” to be pitied, Hofland, 106, 104. Ironically, the heartier English food that helps improve Matilda is deemed worse for Zebby than her poor diet in the West Indies, Hofland, 103–4. While Zebby’s poor grammar and way of talking remain the same at the end of the novel, her work ethic does improve slightly due to English influence, though the praise she receives is couched in a patronizing speech about the inherent laziness of all negroes, Hofland, 104–5, 246. By the end, the narrator hopes for Zebby’s eventual enlightenment, again written as praise embedded in condescending language: “The negro’s conception of this union [between Matilda and Edmund] has every prospect of being verified, and proves that the simplest and most uninformed of human beings may yet enjoy the light of reason, and a just perception of the characters of those around them” Hofland, 246. 60 Hofland, Matilda, or, The Barbadoes Girl, 106. 61 Two more examples of proper domestic conduct occur via encounters with Zebby that are the inverse of Matilda’s earlier colonial conduct. First, an injured, suffering Matilda troubles herself to attend to and reassure sick Zebby instead of whining unbearably and blaming the latter for an accident, Hofland, 126. Second, Matilda reacts calmly, instead of throwing a tantrum, when Zebby reports that Matilda’s new dress for her party will not be ready in time, Hofland, 155. 47 practical economic concerns that counter Sofia’s idealistic and religious focus, making Sofia seem at times almost more naïve than Lotje.

When ten-year-old Lotje speculates on the size of their future house and whether any of the servants will be former slaves purchased in Suriname, Sofia interrupts Lotje’s materialistic daydreams to praise the king’s prohibition of the slave trade. Lotje only becomes aware of the change in national policy at that moment from Sofia, but she immediately poses germane questions regarding the practical effect of abolition on domestic Dutch consumerism: “But if the landowners, there in the West, may no longer buy negroes, how will the ground then be sown and planted? and how will we then get sugar, coffee, cotton and so many other good things?”62 Albeit self-interested in domestic goods like sugar, Lotje then uses a common discourse from the time that alleged black

Africans were better suited for work in tropical climates than Europeans,63 and reinforces it by repeating corroborating information from a family acquaintance who formerly lived in Suriname:

I once heard grandmother and aunt speaking with Mr. and Mrs. FOLKERS, who had long lived in Suriname; and then I too once asked how it was possible that people could be sold like the horses and cows are here. But then Mrs. FOLKERS said: ‘It is merely black negroes that are sold. In their own land they already sell each other, and our colonies cannot do without any slaves; since Europeans cannot work intensely there, because it is so warm, and the natives of Suriname, like those of other colonies, are too sluggish or too weak to work.’ – But what is happening now in that country, now that they may not buy slaves? and why is that buying and selling [of slaves] so evil? 64

62“Maar als de eigenaars van landen, daar in de West, geene negers meer mogen koopen, hoe zal de grond dan bezaaid en beplant worden? en hoe krijgen wij dan suiker, koffij, katoen en zoo vele andere goede dingen?” Moens, De Jonge Sofia, 78. 63 The belief that Europeans were unable to work well in hot climates was accepted as a general truism at this time, significantly bound up in the politics of race and justifying slavery. Already by November 1787, however, a magazine article counters this perceived belief about Europeans unable to withstand hot climates, Benjamin Rush, “An Enquiry into the Methods of Preventing the Painful and Fatal Effects of Cold upon the Human Body,” The European Magazine and London Review: Containing the Literature, History, Politics, Arts, Manners & Amusements of the Age. By the Philological Society of London 12 (1787): 418–19. 64 “Ik heb grootmoede[r] en tante met den heer en mevrouw FOLKERS, die ook lang te Suriname gewoond hebben, daar wel eens over hooren spreken; en dan vraagde ik ook wel eens, hoe het mogelijk ware, dat menschen konden gekocht worden, gelijk hier de paarden en de koeijen. Doch dan zeide mevrouw FOLKERS: ‘Het zijn ook maar zwarte negers, die verkocht worden. In hun eigen land verkoopen zij toch elkander, en in onze volkplantingen kan men geene slaven missen; want de Europeanen kunnen daar niet sterk werken, omdat het zoo warm is, en de inboorlingen van Suriname, zoowel als van andere volkplantingen, zijn te traag of te zwak, om te werken.’ – Maar hoe gaat het dan nu in 48

Presenting these conventional arguments justifying slavery, Lotje’s final blunt demand initiates a didactic dialogue between Mrs. Van Dijk and the children about the morality of slavery premised primarily on Christianity. Even though Lotje is not particularly well-versed in scripture, she astutely draws attention to slavery’s existence in the Bible to question the religious argument put forth by

Sofia and the Van Dijk family.65 Although the text outwardly uses this didactic conversation structure to teach that it is a moral Christian obligation to work toward abolition, the way this dialogue is written counterintuitively reveals a positive dimension to Lotje’s character – she contributes informed and relevant arguments about the institution of slavery and its practical domestic effects – and a positive use of colonial matters in improving her mind and manners.

Lotje’s sustained interest in colonial slavery and its domestic consumer byproducts is portrayed as an entry point for others to cultivate her education and propel her subsequent overall improvement, causing the narrative to ironically suggest that the very place that provides colonial wealth can also provide a topic of educational reform for entitled conduct caused by that wealth.

Once Mr. Groenendal returns from the West Indies, Lotje is highlighted as the only one interested in learning more about the colonies, looking at images of the foreign plants, animals, and insects found there and wanting to know how plantations work.66 Unlike Sofia, who has already read about the colonies in books, Lotje despises reading. Thus, her father relays the information to her orally, reminding the reader about the importance of plantations to provide products like coffee and sugar consumed daily in the Netherlands, yet conveniently staying silent here on the intensive slave labor

dat land, nu zij geene slaven mogen koopen? en waarom is dat koopen en verkoopen zoo kwaad?” Moens, De Jonge Sofia, 78–79. 65 Moens, 80. 66 Moens, 143–44. 49 needed for these plantations to operate.67 Lotje’s curiosity about the colonies is depicted as a positive tool for her education and growth: “The more her knowledge expanded, the more pleasure she took in life, whose greatest purpose [of becoming a model, well-conducted Christian women] she gradually learned more clearly.”68 The Dutch word “genoegen” translates as satisfaction, but not in the fleeting, spoiled way usually associated with Lotje’s conduct. Rather, Lotje here finds a sense of satisfaction that conveys a prolonged feeling of gratification. As she takes a more vested intellectual and financial, if still selfish, interest in the Dutch Empire, her domestic conduct improves, sending a message about the positive domestic impact of the colonies, even though the same place provided the colonial wealth that caused her problematic, entitled conduct from the beginning.

Lotje’s queries about slavery in the colonies lead to slave accounts69 ostensibly placed within the text to guide the reader toward censuring slavery, but they undermine their surface message by also making a case for slavery if it takes place under the right type of Dutch master. Mrs. Van Dijk exposes slavery’s horrific impact on families, especially mothers separated from children, by recounting the history of a black woman she knew. This secondhand account, and a similar one when the narrator tells the history of Sendor and Gama, read more like excerpts from adult abolition tracts that became increasingly popular in the following decades.70 However much Moens censured slavery,71 her text incongruously resists fully condemning the institution since both of these slave

67 The focus in this long paragraph is on the appearance of the original plants that turn into coffee, sugar, cotton and how they are harvested and processed. Although it is clear that several intensive steps are required to produce these end products, the text leaves a gap concerning the slave labor needed to complete these actions. Moens, 143–44. 68 “Hoe meer hare kennis zich uitbreidde, des te meer genoegen vond zij in het leven, welks grootste bestemming zij allengs meer duidelijk leerde kennen,” Moens, 144. 69 While these true stories are likely as fictional as the entire novel, they are presented as veritable accounts of real slaves. 70 Although more prevalent in British society at this time, abolition tracts would become popular in the Netherlands in later decades as the latter moved toward emancipating slaves in 1860 in the East Indies and 1863 in the West Indies. For a mid-century Dutch example, see J. Wolbers, De slavernij in Suriname, of Dezelfde gruwelen der slavernij, die in de “negerhut” geschetst zijn, bestaan ook in onze West-Indische koloniën! (Amsterdam: H. de Hoogh, 1853). 71 Buijnsters and Buijnsters-Smets claim that as testimony to Moens’ enlightened thinking at the time, she had two common themes running through all of her books: love of animals (dierenliefde) and aversion to slavery, Buijnsters and Buijnsters-Smets, Lust en leering, 33. 50 accounts take care to point out that not all Dutch slave owners are heartless, especially not the benevolent Mr. Groenendal. This novel was explicitly intended for juvenile girls at home in the

Netherlands as an age- and gender-appropriate text, yet it creates an inconsistent imperialist ideology here that both denounces slavery while also defending, even redeeming, it through a particular

“good master” rhetoric common to this time in literature.72 The underlying message seems to say that if employed in an appropriate manner, slavery can be a positive institution and discussions about slavery powerful toward ensuring appropriate domestic female formation.

Though Lotje never lives in a colony, she meets former slaves Sendor and Gama in a domestic context and these encounters with individual people positively shape her conduct and thoughts by transforming the abstract participants in the institution of slavery into real individual humans with whom she must interact. Despite hoping for black servants in order to flaunt her colonial wealth and though she is outwardly appreciative of slave labor in abstract discussions, Lotje is the last of the family to warm up to Gama’s physical presence, put off by her dark skin color.73

Although Lotje’s interaction with Gama is hardly the focus of the second half of the novel, it significantly reveals how her daily encounters with Gama make a slightly positive change in Lotje’s entitled behavior, and also potentially questions the imperialist racial hierarchy. After the family loses their colonial wealth, Gama stays on with the Groenendal family and is “clothed by Lotje, who out of necessity began to reconcile herself to the girl’s black color.”74 Though reinforcing distinctions

72 The “good master” rhetoric still prevailed in the Netherlands from the late eighteenth century: the necessity of cultivating reverence in slaves by treating them with mildness unless they misbehave, A. N. Paasman, “La littérature néerlandaise et l’émancipation des esclaves des Indes Occidentales/De Nederlandse literatuur en de emancipatie van de Westindische slaven,” in L’émancipation dans la littérature néerlandaise des Caraïbes: Emancipatie in de Nederlandstalige Caraïbische literatuur, ed. G. Van de Louw and Benoît Verstraete, Alluvions/bilingue 2 (Villeneuve-d’Ascq: Het Coornherthuys, 1997), 35. This rhetoric is especially evident in adult Dutch novels set in Suriname, such as Elisabeth Maria Post, Reinhart, of Natuur en Godsdienst (Amsterdam: Johannes Allart, 1791). 73 Moens, De Jonge Sofia, 106. 74 “bekleedde bij LOTJE, die zich met de zwarte kleur van het meisje uit nood begon te verzoenen,” Moens, 168–69. 51 between class and race, Lotje does come to appreciate Gama as a person, even if an inferior one and for the selfish reasons of wanting her daily assistance as her servant. When Lotje later criticizes her sister for continuing to sponsor and clothe white foundling Mina, whom Sofia treats as if she were of the same social class as them, despite their reduced wealth,75 Lotje suggests that Mina should be at the level of servant like black Gama. Lotje indirectly implies here that Gama has more right to remain in the household than white Mina, placing Gama’s worth as a black servant above Mina’s worth as a poor white of the servant class.

While this could be viewed entirely on practical terms, Gama provides useful labor while

Mina provides no labor, it also points to a tension in the imperialist racial hierarchy that merges lower-ranking servant classes whether black or white, though both remain inferior to upper-class whites, whether colonial or not. Gama’s acceptance by the entire Groenendal family, her conversion to Christianity, and her ability to quickly learn and adapt new skills all serve as positive markers for thoroughly integrating former slaves into Dutch society, at least at the unworrying level of inferior domestic help. Although Mina’s later ascension to Dutch heiress reasserts the normal imperialist hierarchy of all whites above any blacks, the novel, especially as seen through Lotje’s words and interactions, certainly raises many uncertainties and contradictions about domestic perceptions of race, slavery, and empire.

Lingering colonial identity: reform via socialization projects and marriage

The concluding chapters of both novels lead the reader to believe that with how the young protagonists embark on domestic socialization projects, these entitled, colonial girls are well on their way to reforming inappropriate conduct and integrating into domestic society. Matilda uses her

75 Moens, 169. 52 colonial background and own improved behavior to effectively mentor a fellow colonial girl, and

Matilda’s story ends in a happy marriage to a respectable Englishman, signaling full integration into

British society. Lotje hits a high point when she voluntarily spends money on something other than herself by financially supporting the newly developed internal Dutch colony of Frederiksoord,76 while her sister is rewarded for her care of Mina with the prospect of marrying the latter’s admirable brother. However nicely both plots resolve by underscoring effective domestic reform and integration, the narrator and characters within the text continue to remark upon lingering traces of bad behavior still attached to their colonial identities, which both reinforces the superiority of the imperialist center while justifying a continued paternalistic relationship with the colonies. Yet, the fact that colonial entitlement is seemingly irremovable suggests a larger anxiety about white colonial identity and its imminent effect on domestic comportment.

Matilda’s desire to mentor six-year-old Harriet Weston from Jamaica stages a perfect vignette to highlight the extent to which the spoiled colonial Matilda has matured into a proper domestic woman who has purportedly shed her own entitled conduct learned abroad. This domestic socialization project reiterates a major underlying concern related to colonial identity: is it possible for young colonial girls to rid themselves entirely of the undesirable conduct instilled in them due to the colonial society they were raised in abroad with its various influences (slavery, tropical climate, colonial wealth)? Even though Matilda proves very capable of helping another child from a British colony acclimate domestically, the narrator informs us that Matilda needs this new role to keep her

76 Created in 1818, “the new domestic settlement or colony” (“nieuwe vaderlandsche volkplanting of kolonie,”) had existed for less than a year when the first edition of Sofia was published in 1819, Moens, 156. Frederiksoord was started by colonial veteran Johannes van den Bosch (1780-1844), who had spent thirteen years abroad in Java as a lieutenant, then colonel (1797-1810), working with the Dutch administration in various capacities. He later served as Governor General of the Dutch East Indies (1830-1833) and introduced the financially lucrative cultivation system (cultuurstelsel) in 1830. To establish Frederiksoord, he created the Society of Benevolence (Maatschappij van Weldadigheid) in 1818 with the support of King William I, Stichting Maatschappij van Weldadigheid, “Historie,” Koloniën van weldadigheid (blog), 2018, https://www.welkomtoenwelkomnu.nl/maatschappij-van-weldadigheid/historie/. 53 from slipping back into her indolent old ways.77 As has happened throughout the novel, Matilda and the reader continue to be reminded that Matilda’s, and presumably also Harriet’s, early and daily exposure to a society built on slavery has left lasting shortcomings on her ability to completely reform her conduct.

Constant vigilance is needed to keep Matilda acting in accordance with domestic standards of conduct, and the text depicts Matilda’s new husband Edmund Harewood as the ideal caretaker.

When Edmund seeks the approval of Matilda’s mother for her hand in marriage, her mother still labels Matilda, albeit affectionately, as “poor, erring Matilda.”78 Apparently not yet entirely reformed of her colonial ways, Edmund’s role in their marriage is clearly delineated by the narrator: “Matilda looked to Edmund as the guardian of her conduct.”79 With this relationship dynamic touted as appropriate and positive in contemporary terms, the novel also suggests that Edmund, representing paternalistic Britain, plays the still-needed role of mature guardian to help control and shape the still immature colony.80 Critic Karen Sands-O’Connor likewise treats this union as allegorical, since

Matilda is “allying herself, though marriage, permanently to Britain.”81 Yet, even this critical assessment points to Matilda’s remaining otherness; she is an ally who cannot remove her colonial identity to fully become British. The narrator’s last mention of Matilda confirms her lingering colonial identity when she names her only as “The Barbadoes Girl.” The novel ends by cautioning against similar entitled conduct stemming from colonial wealth: “the peculiar necessity of guarding the heart, as with a tenfold barrier, to those who are blest with riches and prosperity.”82 Matilda’s

77 Hofland, Matilda, or, The Barbadoes Girl, 198–99. 78 Hofland, 245. 79 Hofland, 247–48. 80 Harriet’s marriage to Charles Harewood performs the same role to keep in check the problematic female conduct of wealthy, spoiled colonial girls by putting them under the care and guidance of English men, since Harriet is now “an amiable and virtuous young woman, well calculated to render him [Charles] happy,” Hofland, 248. 81 Sands-O’Connor, Soon Come Home to This Island, 15. 82 Hofland, Matilda, or, The Barbadoes Girl, 249–50. 54 flawed behavior is always almost eradicated and yet its origin in the colonies is always reinforced first within her relationship with Zebby and then within her relationship to Edmund after their marriage.

With Sofia as the titular exemplar, Sofia predictably ends highlighting Sofia’s model conduct and prospect for a well-suited marriage to Mina’s wealthy and honorable brother. The author’s intent to write a sequel, expressed in the closing lines of the novel, prevents Sofia’s marriage from occurring in this text.83 Of all the female characters, however, Sofia is the only to have a marriage prospect, which comes about as a fitting reward for her using her exemplary conduct and colonial wealth philanthropically to mentor poor Mina. However, there is one contradictory moment within the text where Sofia’s conduct, seemingly unintentionally, draws an awkward comparison to a sense of colonial entitlement over slaves. Sofia, as the reader has come to expect, is benevolent and generous as a mentor, even going so far as to ask her father to let Mina move with them to their new house as her birthday present instead of requesting jewelry like Lotje:

I long for much more, dear father [than a pearl necklace]! Forgive me; I would so dearly like Mina, the foundling of poor HENDRIK – Aunt has told you, after all, how merciful HENDRIK and MARIJTJE were towards her? – I would so dearly like to take Mina with us to A…, and look after her further education. May I do that, dear father? MINA is such a sweet, teachable child. From the money that you annually allot me for clothes, I can easily clothe MINA as well, if I am a little frugal. I would then want to keep her until she has learned everything and can take care of herself.84

Sofia’s charitable desire to provide for Mina is painted as admirable, especially in sharp contrast to

Lotje’s shallow desire for a necklace of expensive pearls.85 Yet, Sofia’s earlier strong condemnation

83 Moens, De Jonge Sofia, 185. 84 “Ik verlang veel meer, lieve vader! Vergeef het mij; ik wilde zoo gaarne MINA, die vondelinge van den armen HENDRIK – tante heeft u immers verteld, hoe barmhartig HENDRIK en MARIJTJE omtrent haar waren? – ik wilde MINA zoo gaarne medenemen naar A…. , en voor hare opvoeding verder zorgen. Mag ik dat doen, lieve vader? MINA is zulk een lief, leerzaam kind. Van het geld dat gij mij jaarlijks toegelegd hebt, om mij te kleeden, kan ik MINA gemakkelijk ook kleeden, wanneer ik een weinig spaarzaam ben. Ik wilde haar dan zoolang houden, totdat zij alles geleerd heeft, en voor zich zelve kan zorgen,” Moens, 110. 85 Lotje’s request indirectly serves as a colonial reminder since pearls were commonly harvested in Ceylon, which had long been a Dutch colony before being overtaken by the British in 1785. For a contemporary discussion in Dutch juvenile fiction of the dangers of pearl harvesting making pearls prized jewelry, see A.B. van Meerten, De kermiswandeling, 55 of the purchase of other humans via the slave trade creates an incongruous tension that emerges when Mr. Groenendal, Mrs. Van Dijk, and the narrator all find it commendable that the exemplary

Sofia is asking her father to “give” her another person as a gift, and in the context of this particular conversation, even likening her to a decorative ornament.86

Although Mr. Groenendal cannot buy Mina like a slave or a piece of jewelry, he instantly decrees that she shall be in Sofia’s custody: “MINA is from this instant your charge.”87 Mina’s residence and future is decided entirely without her input, as though a foundling with unknown lineage has no personal rights in the same way as a slave. Nor does Sofia take Mina’s adopted parents’ feelings into consideration when she presumes they have no real claim on Mina due to their lower-class status compared to her own. The text then presents a tearful parting scene that evokes slave children being unwillingly separated from their parents, echoing the histories recounted earlier in the novel by Mrs. Van Dijk. With her actions, however magnanimously intended, Sofia reveals a sense of colonial entitlement, one that allows her to assume such a request for a person is appropriate, which further draws an analogy between Sofia as a paternalistic mother country deciding unilaterally what is best for her dependent colony. When Mina is later discovered to be a rich Dutch heiress, Sofia’s dedication to Mina is praised by both Mina’s family and her own, indicating that the cause had justified the means. In much the same way that “good master” slaveowners had claimed to know what was best for their slaves, Sofia thought she had done the

of Onderrigt omtrent den oorsprong van dit feest, alsmede het nut en gebruik van de voornaamste koopwaren (Amsterdam: G.J.A. Beijerinck, 1825), 10–14. 86 Mina as similar to a decorative ornament also calls to mind that colonies were often described as precious jewels in the nineteenth century, not only in English with India later becoming the “Crown Jewel of the British Empire,” but also in Dutch, as a different juvenile novel shows when a character praises the Dutch heroes who captured Java for “giving this precious little jewel to their Fatherland” (“dit kostbaar juweeltje aan hun Vaderland schonken”), Anthony Engelbertus van Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Lodewijk Vermeer, in de Nederlandsch Oost-Indische Bezittingen (Amsterdam: G. Portielje, 1843), 27. 87 “MINA is van dit oogenblik af uwe kweekeling,” Moens, De Jonge Sofia, 110. 56 right thing deciding what was best for Mina, even if her request to do so oddly implied the transfer of people as property in colonial slavery. This contradiction in Sofia’s conduct raises anxiety about even perfect exemplars of domestic conduct not being immune to the fleeting moments of entitlement linked so specifically with colonial wealth and society in this novel.

Lotje, on the other hand, does not take on a mentoring project, nor is she slated for marriage in the final pages of the novel, but she does give up some of her colonial wealth to invest in the domestic, yet curiously still colonial, cause of Frederiksoord.88 On an educational trip around the

Netherlands, the Groenendal family pays a visit to the local colony of Frederiksoord, which actually existed as a recently-established “trial colony” in the province of Drenthe.89 Frederiksoord’s presence in the novel focuses the reader’s attention on issues of internal colonialism and nationalism, reminding the reader that the Netherlands had only recently been colonized as a puppet state of France, and was now turning to its own form of idealized imperialism at home in order to assist its poor and build a sense of national identity.90 The text portrays Lotje’s insistent colonial fixation, with its accompanying sense of entitlement, as both a concern and an advantage to her domestic formation, as exemplified here when Lotje gives up part of her allowance that she would

88 As noted in the previous section, Lotje does provide servant’s clothes for Gama, but this selfish relationship is certainly not one of mentoring. 89 “proefkolonie.” Fifty-two destitute Dutch families received a small house and parcel of land, with the expectation of farming to make a living. The first colony and several adjacent others remained active until they were all eventually incorporated into cities in the twentieth century. Stichting Maatschappij van Weldadigheid, “Historie.” 90 However, there remains one large difference between the internal Dutch colony and the external ones such as the West and East Indies. In the former, there is clearly a desire to improve the lot of the poor Dutchman as a matter of national pride and cultural identity, whereas in the external colonies the emphasis at this time remains on trade and profit, not the state of the native inhabitants. It is not until later in the nineteenth century when Dutch novels, such as Mutatuli’s Max Havelaar (1860) and M.T.H. Perelaer’s Baboe Dalima (1886), begin questioning the moral obligations of the government to its colonial people in their novels targeting adult readers. As opposed to the French and British civilizing mission put into place much earlier in their nineteenth-century colonial endeavors, the Ethical Policy (Ethische Politiek) that spells out the Dutch commitment to improving material living conditions through development does not appear until the early twentieth century. Multatuli, Max Havelaar, of De koffij-veilingen der Nederlandsche handelsmaatschappij; M. T. H Perelaer, Baboe Dalima: Or, The Opium Fiend. (London: Vizetelly & Co., 1888). 57 otherwise spend on social diversions or jewelry to take part in financially supporting the internal

Dutch colony. Lotje’s financial contribution is included in Sofia’s letter to her cousin Koosje:

I cannot tell you how good it was for me here when I saw so many contented people happily working. The children looked healthy and comely; they played, worked and learned in turn. Father and Aunt were also truly satisfied, and wished only that all of our fellow countrymen would cooperate as much as possible to help put into place similar settlements in other parts of our fatherland. All poor people could then find work and no one would need to beg, and in all places the Land would be populated with happy people. LOTJE and I are also giving our allowance every year, and your dear mother, who was a member of the humanitarian society from when it first began, will now see with joy – she says – when you and MIELTJE also sign up – it is not so much, is it, KOOSJE! We can very easily set this aside from some trifles for pleasure or jewelry.91

In taking part alongside her sister, Lotje demonstrates a significant step of reform by using her colonial wealth gained abroad in the Dutch Empire to invest in a domestic, internal colony.

Unfortunately, the reader never finds out if Lotje’s turn toward using her personal colonial wealth philanthropically would become customary since the family loses their money on the very next page, though the novel implies it unlikely since Lotje is described on the final page of the novel as “the still disagreeable Lotje.”92 Though Lotje makes great strides in emulating her sister’s exemplary conduct, her colonial identity remains intact and problematic until the end of novel, sending a contradictory message of the positive and negative impact that colonial wealth, and its subsequent sense of entitlement, has on domestic female formation.

91 “Ik kan u niet zeggen, hoe goed het mij hier was, toen ik zoo vele tevredene menschen vrolijk zag arbeiden. De kinderen zagen er gezond en bevallig uit; zij speelden, werkten en leerden beurtelings. Vader en tante waren ook regt voldaan, en wenschten slechts, dat al onze landgenooten zoo veel mogelijk zouden medewerken, om soortgelijke volkplantingen ook in andere streken van ons vaderland te helpen stichten. Alle arme menschen konden dan werk vinden, ook niet één behoefde te bedelen, en aan alle oorden zoude het Land met gelukkige menschen bevolkt zijn. LOTJE en ik geven elk jaar ook onze toelaag, en uwe lieve moeder, die reeds bij de eerste oprigting van het weldadige genootschap een medelid was, zal het nu met vreugde zien – zegt zij– wanneer gij en MIELTJE ook inteekent – het is toch zoo veel niet, KOOSJE! Wij kunnen dit aan eenige beuzelingen tot vermaak of sieraad heel gemakkelijk uitsparen,” Moens, De Jonge Sofia, 158–59. Also linking the internal colony to larger external Dutch colonies, and to Suriname in particular, is the echo of the same adjectives used here to describe the children, “gezond en bevallig,” as were used in the opening chapter to describe Sofia and Lotje as infants when they were compared to their father’s plantations. 92 “het nog altijd onbehagelijk LOTJE,” Moens, 185. 58

Conclusion

On the surface, Matilda and Sofia are unassuming, typical domestic moral tales from the early nineteenth century. They both use conventions of the genre to assert standards of appropriate domestic conduct for young women. In order to best convey these domestic ideals, both novels present overseas colonies with their plantation slavery and wealth, and subsequent sense of entitlement, to contrast unfavorable conduct embodied by two examples of female colonial identity.

Matilda is a spoiled colonial heiress who reforms under domestic influence to become enough of a decorous, considerate Englishwoman to marry Edmund Harewood. Lotje is a negative exemplar to

Sofia’s positive one, used to highlight Sofia’s ideal virtuous conduct by behaving selfishly worse in every way, beginning to reform only when put in the same rural domestic setting as her sister. These novels send an overarching imperialist agenda of the superiority, and necessity, of the paternalistic imperial center in resolutely reforming its ill-behaved colonial children.

But by noticing some of the many contradictions within these texts, these novels frequently collapse the binary of domestic/colonial by using that very otherness to effect reform in a domestic context. While the novels evidently express anxiety about imperialism coming home in the form of female colonial identity, they also find moments of potential utility in that identity to productively shape conduct and create new domestic spaces for colonial families. Although both texts ultimately insist that colonial identity is not something that can be entirely erased, justifying colonial inferiority in the imperialist hierarchy, they both leave openings that suggest that female colonial identity is not meritless in a domestic context. As Matilda and Sofia attest when examined with regard to domestic and colonial conduct, a lingering colonial identity can prove beneficial in a domestic setting, creating a more nuanced character with a questioning voice toward imperialism’s influence on domestic, and therefore national, female identity than these moral tales may initially suggest.

While these domestic moral tales outwardly deliberated the impact of colonial entitlement and its subsequent conduct as negatively influencing young women and insisted on the need for a strong domestic environment to reform and sustain appropriate female conduct, a new genre of juvenile novels, the early adventure novel, arrived only a few decades later to claim the inverse for young men. Going abroad in the empire and adapting diverse conduct did not harm their identity, but rather made these young men more Dutch and British than before. Early adventure novels of the 1840s celebrated the independence acquired by young men abroad in the empire as productive to masculine formation and appropriate conduct, though these novels, too, reveal underlying conflicting cracks that question their outwardly assured imperialist ideologies.

Chapter 2

Mastering manhood abroad:

Re-forming masculine conduct to overcome limits of empire in early adventure novels

Whereas early nineteenth-century domestic moral tales stressed the harm done to female conduct from colonial wealth and time spent in the empire, early adventure novels from the 1840s proclaim the very opposite influence of imperialism on masculine conduct. They, instead, describe the good fortune young men gain in spending time abroad: personal wealth, maturation, and a broader understanding of empire and its national benefits. This chapter, by comparing Masterman Ready; or,

The Wreck of the Pacific. Written for Young People (1841-42)1 by British author Captain Frederick Marryat

(1792-1848) with Reizen en lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, in de Nederlandsch West-Indische bezittingen

(Travels and fortunes of Gustaaf Westerman, in the Dutch West-Indian possessions, 1843)2 by

Dutch author Anthony Engbertus van Noothoorn, demonstrates the way both British and Dutch early adventure novels create positive support for imperialism by showing empire’s influence in successfully molding young men abroad, influenced and shaped by encounters with those from other classes and races while abroad. Yet, they reveal the unspoken contradiction within this very arrangement being founded on a re-formation of appropriate conduct that falls outside common, and sometimes legal, acceptance in domestic society, such as owning, commanding, and physically punishing slaves or shooting and killing dozens of indigenous people in self-defense on contested property. Slave ownership and armed battle over contested lands were forbidden in domestic Britain

1 Frederick Marryat, Masterman Ready; or, The Wreck of the Pacific. Written for Young People., 3 vols. (London: Longman, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1841-1842). 2 Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman. A Flemish edition was published in Ghent in 1844, Anthony Engelbertus van Noothoorn, Reizen en lotgevallen van Gustaf Westerman, in de Nederlandsch West-Indische bezittingen (Gent: Snoeck-Ducaju, 1843). 61 and the Netherlands, though these activities abroad were often still interpreted as a marker of wealth, esteem, and/or bravery. The novels do not encounage young readers to attempt these activities domestically, but they do set up an opposition of domestic juvenile reader and ideal juvenile protagonist abroad.

The novels encourage this altered masculine conduct so that protagonists can use it to outwardly overcome the limits and challenges of empire. The texts call attention to the drawbacks of living abroad and the many difficulties faced by men in maintaining a lucrative national empire, including climate, immigration schemes, slavery, and the attempt to control vast interiors populated by indigenous inhabitants, recalcitrant settlers, and wild animals. To counter these acknowledged limits of empire, the novels employ patriarchal conduct to try to provide an illusion of control over the land and local populations. Far-flung imperial outposts provide settings primed for action, but these adventure novels also advocate for certain conduct in order to responsibly manage and limit decline in a distant, often dissimilar part of the empire.

Historically, Marryat and van Noothoorn were writing these novels during a decade of contrasting stages of national imperial growth versus decay. The British Empire was on the rise, with the belief that Britain could learn from historical empires like Rome and from their own mistakes, i.e., the American colonies, to avoid future losses, conceivably prolonging their empire for as long as possible. The Dutch were already reduced to a “junior partner” status in Europe by the 1840s, in particular in their relationship with Britain,3 after Belgium’s secession in 1830 quashed any dreams of returning to unified greatness following the Napoleonic Wars. The costs of fighting the Belgian secession along with those of a five-year war to maintain control of Java (1825-1830) caused the

3 Goor, “The Colonial Factor in Anglo-Dutch Relations, 1780-1820,” 25. See also Sas, “The Dutch and the British Umbrella 1813-1870,” 33–42. 62

Dutch to instead focus on extracting more wealth from the Dutch East Indies with their profitable forced cultivation system (cultuurstelsel), first implemented in 1830. Although van Noothoorn was writing in support of a waning empire while Marryat of a waxing one, their popular juvenile adventure novels present corresponding imperialist ideologies that showcase the benefits of imperialism for masculine conduct and wealth, even while they deliberate empire’s precarious permanence and limited financial exploitation.

While boys and girls had long been reading adventure novels and travel writing written for adults, such as Willem Bontekoe’s Journael (Journal, 1646) and Daniel Defoe’s Robinson Crusoe

(1719),4 the juvenile version of adventure novels emerged in the 1840s linked more explicitly to empire,5 in part by capitalizing on the increasing number of young men going abroad at the time.6

One of the most popular British juvenile novels in the 1840s was also one of the first adventures of sea fiction specifically geared toward young readers:7 experienced British naval officer Captain

Marryat wrote Masterman Ready (1841) for his children as a realistic response to the already well- received juvenile Swiss Robinson Crusoe story by Johann David Wyss, Der schweizerische Robinson oder,

Der schiffbrüchige schweizer-prediger und seine familie. Ein lehrreiches buch für kinder und kinderfreunde zu stadt und land (The Swiss Robinson, Or The Shipwrecked Swiss Preacher and his Family. An Educational

4 The first English translation of Bontekoe appeared in 1929, Willem Ysbrandsz Bontekoe, Memorable Description of the East Indian Voyage, 1618-25, trans. Pieter Geyl and C. B Bodde-Hodgkinson (London: George Routledge, 1929); Bontekoe, Journael ofte gedenckwaerdige beschrijvinghe vande Ost-indische reyse.; Defoe, The Life and Strange Surprizing Adventures of Robinson Crusoe. 5 Lewis Roberts, for example, offers “imperial fantasy” as an equivalent for “adventure tale,” Roberts, “Children’s Fiction,” 362. For more on the juvenile adventure genre and its connection to empire, see Green, Dreams of Adventure, Deeds of Empire, 220; Boehmer, Colonial and Postcolonial Literature, 74; Brantlinger, Rule of Darkness, 12; MacKenzie, “Imperialism and Juvenile Literature.” 6 White men typically outnumbered white women more than two to one throughout the nineteenth century. The number of white women increased only after mid-century, when the Suez Canal opened in 1869, making travel to eastern colonies easier. Marshall, The Cambridge Illustrated History of the British Empire, 246–47. 7 Green insists that “[Marryat] and Cooper together invented the genre of sea fiction at a significant level of intelligence and taste,” Green, Dreams of Adventure, 214. 63

Book for Children and Friends of Children in the City and the Country, 1812-1813).8 The latter was translated into many languages and versions, the most common English one being The Swiss Family

Robinson, confirming popular juvenile literature’s significant role in shaping national and international worldviews. The very popular Masterman Ready imitated its Swiss predecessor as a robinsonade featuring an entire family instead of a single protagonist but made its own contributions to the genre as well.9 The novel, although not set in an established British colony but arguably illustrating colonization nonetheless,10 contains abundant material about the British Empire revealed in explicit conversations and accounts set in wide-ranging imperial locales. The story follows twelve-year-old

William Seagrave and his family immigrating to Sydney when their vessel runs into a storm. After the crew abandons ship, a seasoned sailor named Masterman Ready stays behind to help the forsaken

Seagrave family land and survive on a nearby deserted island in the Pacific. The bulk of the novel describes their daily tasks, with their adventure culminating in a battle against a tribe of warring natives from a nearby island. The Seagraves are saved by the original captain returning to rescue them in the nick of time. Mortally wounded from the battle, Ready dies on the island, a symbol of lower-class learned, practical experience abroad deemed unacceptable to society’s standards, while the Seagraves go on to settle and prosper in Sydney.11

8 Marryat, Masterman Ready, 1841, 1:v–vi. The original Swiss Robinson was translated and embellished by many authors throughout the nineteenth century, Johann David Wyss, Der schweizerische Robinson oder, Der schiffbrüchige schweizer-prediger und seine familie. Ein lehrreiches buch für kinder und kinderfreunde zu stadt und land. (Zurich: Orell, Füssli und compagnie, 1812). The first English translation appeared in 1814, Johann David Wyss, The Family Robinson Crusoe, or, Journal of a Father Shipwrecked, with His Wife and Children, on an Uninhabited Island, trans. H Corbould (London: Printed for M.J. Godwin, at the Juvenile Library, 1814). 9 As Green notes, Masterman Ready went through fifty-seven editions and “introduced a number of ideas or motifs which were taken into the Robinson material, or the adventure material generally, which other writers inherited,” Green, “The Robinson Crusoe Story,” 45. Marryat even has his juvenile protagonist tout having read Robinson Crusoe in the opening chapter, acknowledging the novel’s prototype and foreshadowing the shipwreck and desolate island to come. 10 The family develops the island for their own use and colonizes it in that sense, even though they ultimately leave it behind when they are rescued and do not return there for further national colonizing purposes, Laurence Kitzan, Victorian Writers and the Image of Empire: The Rose-Colored Vision (Westport; London: Greenwood Press, 2001), 124. 11 Sydney was the first settlement in the British penal colony of New South Wales, later part of the Commonwealth of Australia in 1901. Sydney was established as a town in 1842 with a population of approximately 35,000. The last convicts 64

Though original Dutch adventure novels were scarce at this time,12 adventure novels in translation were not, as many popular European juvenile adventure novels were available in Dutch.13

The Reizen en lotgevallen (Travels and fortunes)14 series by schoolteacher A.E. van Noothoorn forms a

Dutch contribution to contemporary adventure novels,15 though the series reflects more travel writing or a “wanderer story” than the Robinson Crusoe survivalist adventure found in Marryat.16

The series was written in response to a writing contest hoping to combat the “decided aversion” to geography by “receiv[ing] a Geography textbook for primary schools written in the style of

ROBINSON.”17 Though he did not enter the contest, Van Noothoorn wrote a series of original, first-person fictional travelogues as his contribution toward inciting juvenile interest in geography relevant to the 1840s Dutch nation.18 This chapter primarily examines the second installment set in

were brought in 1840 and free settlers began to arrive as well for whaling, sealing, and the wool trade. The discovery of gold in 1851 brought many more, “Sydney’s History,” City of Sydney, accessed March 1, 2018, http://www.cityofsydney.nsw.gov.au/learn/sydneys-history. 12 Dutch authors focused more on historical fiction, Buijnsters and Buijnsters-Smets, Lust en leering, 258. 13 Marryat’s Masterman Ready was available in Dutch in 1843, Frederick Marryat, Stuurman Flink, of De Schipbreuk van De Vrede: Een Verhaal Voor de Jeugd, trans. Carl Friedrich Julius Jaeger (Groningen: W. van Boekeren, 1843). Titles by Marryat and James Fennimore Cooper were popular translations from English, while those by Gustave Aimard and Jules Verne were popular from French, in addition to Robinson Crusoe reworkings for youth from German authors J.H. Campe and Johann Andreas Christoph Hildebrandt, Buijnsters and Buijnsters-Smets, Lust en leering, 242–59; Bea Ros and Jonckheere, “Een geval apart. Meisjes- en jongensboeken,” in Een land van waan en wijs: geschiedenis van de Nederlandse jeugdliteratuur, ed. Rita Ghesquiere, Vanessa Joosen, and Helma van Lierop-Debrauwer (Amsterdam: Uitgeverij Atlas Contact, 2014), 274. 14 The Dutch word lotgevallen is most often translated as fortunes, but can also be rendered as adventures, and was used in both senses already in book titles from the 1840s. 15 Although van Noothoorn went on to write several other novels in the series, only the first two specifically address the contemporary Dutch Empire; other volumes went beyond Dutch possessions: Russia (1844), the United States (1846), and Spain (1851), see his bibliography in Renate van der Geer, “De wereld volgens A.E. van Noothoorn” (Universiteit van Amsterdam, 1994), 14–18. With this series, Van Noothoorn intended to create a juvenile “Library of Geography” (“Bibliotheek der Aardrijkskunde”), Anthony Engelbertus van Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Karel de Man, in Nederland (Amersfoort: W.J. Van Bommel van Vloten, 1846), vii. 16As Green writes of the “wanderer story,” “the reader’s interest is divided between the seas and lands described, with their flora and fauna and human societies, and the ancient and modern form of transport employed, with their various delays and delights.,…The sense of movement, the sense of geography, gives a sense of power…which is recognizably a shadow of the power of imperial cultures,” Martin Green, Seven Types of Adventure Tale: An Etiology of a Major Genre (University Park, PA.: Penn State Press, 1991), 147. 17 “bepaalden afkeer,” “een leerboek der Aardrijkskunde voor de lagere scholen te verkrijgen, hetwelk geschreven in den trant der ROBINSONS,” Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Lodewijk Vermeer, iii–iv. The writing contest was sponsored by the popular Dutch Society for Public Welfare (Maatschappij tot Nut van ‘t Algemeen). 18 “I may compare all of these little works to an appetizer or an aperitif before the meal that excites and awakens the appetite. It is entertaining literature, though an entertaining literature that can at the same time be useful to bring a 65 the Dutch West Indies, Gustaaf Westerman, as it is more compelling than the first set in the Dutch

East Indies published earlier that year,19 suggesting van Noothoorn better mastered his didactic adventure formula the second time around. Gustaaf Westerman follows seventeen-year-old Gustaaf, his comical Dutch servant Harmen, and Gustaaf’s Uncle Jan as they travel to and then work on the latter’s prosperous sugar plantation in the Dutch West Indies.20 Gustaaf eventually inherits the plantation, sells it for a profit, and returns home to support his family and write the novel as an account of his adventures abroad.

Both of these early adventure novels recount fictional travels overseas that explicitly target juvenile audiences of both genders,21 yet only feature young male characters who go abroad.

Masterman Ready includes three minor women characters: William’s weak-willed mother,22 his sister

Caroline, and the former slave Juno. Only the last plays an active role in the novel, but since she is frequently portrayed as masculine in her utility and strength, her gender is marked as distinctly secondary to her inferior status as a black servant. Gustaaf Westerman only has background female characters: a mother and sisters at home, and female slaves and indigenous Indians mentioned in

Suriname. The absence of women in both books alludes to the small number of Europeans,23 let

general knowledge of lands, people, etc., to youth,” (“al die werkjes mag ik vergelijken bij een geregt of likeurtje vóór den maaltijd, dat een eetlust prikkelt en aanwakkert. ‘t Is uitspannings-lectuur, doch eene uitspannings-lectuur die tevens de nuttigheid kan hebben om de jeugd eene algemeene kennis van landen, volken enz. aan te brengen,”) Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Karel de Man, in Nederland, vii–viii. 19 The first volume was published anonymously, and the preface to the first edition is dated 1845, though both the cover and title page list 1843 as the date of publication. Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Lodewijk Vermeer. 20 Although van Noothoorn intends for his novel to be educational, it is not entirely factually accurate, especially given the unlikelihood that many of the sugar plantations in the 1840-50s were producing an annual profit of 3,000 guilders as the novel indicates. For this and other inaccuracies, see Joh. F. Snelleman, “Suriname Voor Jongelieden,” De West-Indische Gids 6 (1924): 21–26. 21 Marryat’s subtitle says it was “written for young people,” Marryat, Masterman Ready, 1841. Van Noothoorn intentionally addresses both genders by inserting the same phrase four times: “my young male and female friends,” (“mijne jeugdige vrienden en vriendinnen”), Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, 35, 90, 133, 135. 22 The helpless mother figure here contrasts sharply with The Swiss Family Robinson’s active and resourceful mother. 23 For example, when the new Dutch Governor General, van der Capellen, arrived in 1816 in Batavia in the Dutch East Indies, there were only about a thousand Europeans living there, Nieuwenhuys, Mirror of the Indies, 44. According to the Encyclopedia of the Dutch West Indies (1914-1917), Suriname had a larger population in 1815 of about 5100 “free” inhabitants and roughly 52,000 slaves, and by 1831 almost 8500 “free” and approximately 53,000 slaves, with the “free” 66 alone European women, in either empire in the first half of the nineteenth century.24 Although young girls did still read these books, and a few contemporary adventure tales did exist with female leads,25 the adventure novel genre was dominated by male protagonists until much later in the century,26 reiterating that, in the 1840s, time abroad encountering other classes and races was viewed as a positive testing ground only for young men, not women.

Modeling first-hand experience abroad: new conduct shaped by class and race

These early adventure novels present juvenile male protagonists as hard-working and tractable upper middle-class exemplars who are contrasted in the text by a flawed, lower-class foil to underline the former’s approach to learning proper conduct abroad. While the model protagonists ask questions to learn more about their new locales on their adventures abroad, neither of them really questions reforming their routine behavior to accept the colony’s status quo, one that involves interacting with

“savages” or slaves in ways that uphold imperialist ideologies to reinforce white, national superiority.

The successful young men do not, however, learn this appropriate conduct abroad entirely on their own, but rather thanks to the mentoring of one, or more, father figures in the text, whose own class status and first-hand experiences complicate a simple father-son relationship and draw attention to

including both whites and “free Mulatto negroes,” but excluding boschnegers and indigenous Indians, Herman Daniël Benjamins and Joh. F. Snelleman, eds., Encyclopaedie van Nederlandsch West-Indië (Den Haag; Leiden: Martinus Nijhoff; E.J. Brill, 1914), 665. 24 Marshall, The Cambridge Illustrated History of the British Empire, 246–47. 25 Adventure novels with female protagonists did exist on the British side, for example Barbara Hofland’s The Captives in India, but these are a minority at this time, Barbara Hofland, The Captives in India: A Tale, 3 vols. (London: Bentley, 1834). Popular author Mary Martha Sherwood wrote didactic moral tales set abroad with female protagonists, but these are decidedly not adventure novels. See also Thomas Fair, “19th-Century English Girls’ Adventure Stories: Domestic Imperialism, Agency, and the Female Robinsonades,” Rocky Mountain Review 68, no. 2 (2014): 142–58. No Dutch adventure novels with female protagonists set abroad were found. 26 See Smith, Empire in British Girls’ Literature and Culture. 67 the way the novels, accentuated by textual variations, at once prioritize and weaken the importance of class and race in experiencing empire.

From the beginning of Masterman Ready, hardworking William is the model juvenile protagonist who asks enlightening questions about his environment and his world, and who modifies his conduct to successfully adapt to living onboard a ship with lower-class sailors, then to surviving on an island, and finally to defending his family against invading “savages.” But it is less obvious in the first volume that one of William’s mentors, the aged and now exemplary, if lower- class titular character, Ready, will eventually also serve as his flawed foil to emphasize William’s proper conduct. Beginning in the second volume, Ready’s story of his irresponsible youth not only breaks up the monotony of daily life on the island “to pass away the evening,”27 it also explicitly

“proves a warning” to William of the consequences of imprudent behavior as epitomized by the young, reckless Ready who runs away to sea and falls into scrapes abroad.28 The presence of a young

Ready in the text prevents William from having to go through such dangerous and rough experiences himself, but the way Ready’s early debacles are written in comparison to William’s experience on the island sends an inconsistent message about first-hand experience and class.

Unlike Ready, William has not one, but two mentoring father figures present to guide his actions and make each moment an expressly teachable one, whether practical matters by Ready or theoretical matters by his father.29 Ready’s history, on the other hand, encourages disobedience for the sake of adventure that in turn has transformed Ready into a fount of resourcefulness, practical

27 Ready is approximately sixty years old when the novel begins, since he went away to sea at age ten and has fifty years of experience. If the novel’s setting is arguably contemporary with its publication date of 1841, then “Ready’s History” would begin approximately fifty years earlier in 1791, Frederick Marryat, Masterman Ready; or, The Wreck of the Pacific. Written for Young People., vol. 2 (London: Longman, Brown, Green and Longmans, 1842), 20. 28 Marryat, 2:20. 29 Laurence Kitzan labels Ready as Marryat’s “practical” man and Mr. Seagrave as Marryat’s “theoretical” man, Kitzan, Victorian Writers and the Image of Empire, 122. 68 knowledge, and mature model behavior. Even the distinctive narrative format of Ready’s history underscores its significance as a lived first-hand experience: the text switches from a third-person omniscient narrator into a first-person dialogue in order to point to Ready’s first-hand experiences with empire.30 The presence of Ready’s history, alongside his current role as William’s mentor, draws attention to the fact that in this text it is formally-uneducated, though exceedingly experienced, sailors like Ready who are instrumental, and likely the most influential, in shaping the minds of youth about the practicalities of conduct deemed appropriate to empire. With such a positive end result in the transformed Ready, the presence of his life story questions which type of first-hand experience in the empire is best for becoming a model man, whether via carefully guided, almost contained, experiences like William’s on the island or via reckless, happenstance ones like those of young Ready. The manifestation of both types contends that experience abroad is best for young men, in any form it may take, but it also draws attention to class structures and restrictions of certain conduct for William even on deserted islands, paradoxically favoring Ready’s uninhibited encounter with empire as more powerful in shaping character, even if that type of experience is not entirely possible, or supposedly best, for someone of William’s class. Masterman Ready offers a critique of the

British class system’s value, especially abroad in an imperial environment, by championing the titular character, Ready, and his long litany of good and bad practical experiences over William’s book- smart father, though Ready re-instates it at the end by having Ready die and not move on to Sydney.

Gustaaf Westerman sets up a straightforward mentoring environment to ensure the success of molding the exemplary juvenile protagonist abroad: Gustaaf is the Dutch juvenile character

30 Formally, the running headers during these sections remain constant as “Ready’s history” or “Ready’s Narrative,” no longer changing to encapsulate the most important content on each page. Within the text, Ready’s history is designated by quotation marks as dialogue, which allows for other characters to interject questions and ensure that all didactic moments are well understood by William, and by extension the implied juvenile reader. 69 portrayed as a hardworking, and obedient young man who learns how to appropriately conduct himself in the empire under the mentorship of his wealthy Uncle Jan, with Gustaaf’s country bumpkin Dutch servant Harmen serving as a foil to highlight Gustaaf’s proper conduct. Unlike

William in Masterman Ready, Gustaaf does not face danger via shipwreck, but rather his travel serves as the adventure to introduce Gustaaf, and the juvenile reader, to the sea journey to Suriname and quotidian life on a plantation once there. Yet, contradictions and silences in the text surrounding encounters with others abroad reveal that the roles played by Gustaaf, Harmen, and Uncle Jan challenge notions of imperialist identity, race, and class.

Uncle Jan is depicted as a wealthy, worldly man of empire, having “made his fortune” from twenty-five years spent in the Dutch East Indies.31 Yet, the way his character is created reveals a conflicting imperialist ideology enforcing the specificity of Suriname at the same time as the universality of the Dutch Empire that leaves the reader confused about his authority as an imperialist mentor. Uncle Jan’s character speaks to the historical and cultural distinctness of

Suriname, but his lack of first-hand experience there homogenizes all of his Dutch Empire experiences,32 merging them into a single one that simplifies the same conduct with the same lucrative results as supposedly applicable across the Dutch Empire. Uncle Jan dismisses his lack of experience on Suriname as unimportant because he is well-read,33 and he later claims extensive knowledge about the best ways to handle plantation slaves34 despite domestic/urban slaves making

31 “zijn fortuin gemaakt,” Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, 4. 32 Before they leave on the trip, Uncle Jan tells Gustaaf’s family he has seen the East Indies so why not also the West Indies. He later confirms it is his first trip to Suriname onboard when asked by Gustaaf, Noothoorn, 7, 21. 33“however I know this land fairly well by means of good travel descriptions and also through an old friend,” (“evenwel ken ik dit land zoo tamelijk door middel van goede reisbeschrijvingen en ook door eenen ouden vriend”), Noothoorn, 21. 34 Uncle Jan concludes that Gustaaf will come to see the slaves as better off as slaves under Dutch rule than free under French or British rule after spending a couple of years among them, again suggesting that the uncle already has experience with this particular slavery context or implying that its similar to others in the Dutch Empire. In Dutch, 70 up a larger percentage in the Dutch East Indies than those performing agricultural work as on

Suriname.35 With Uncle Jan’s conduct, the text implies that what is applicable from his time spent in the Dutch East Indies is equally so to the slave plantations of Suriname. This is most starkly illustrated when Gustaaf witnesses his uncle’s drastic change in conduct after arriving at his plantation in Suriname: “I was not a little surprised to see that the good man, who was still quite capable of dressing himself and had done so earlier, was being helped by a negro while another blackie offered him tea and stuck a lit cigar in his mouth.”36 His conduct highlights how colonial environments with slavery create alternate expectations of masculine conduct as slaveholder, including voluntarily becoming lazy by Gustaaf’s middle-class Dutch standards in order to shift his appearance into one of a higher-class marked by slaves performing servant roles.37 Even though

Uncle Jan’s conduct as slaveowner merges his two colonial experiences, universalizing the Dutch

Empire, other factual errors, such as holding a “dou” or traditional slave party that had already been forbidden since 1828, leave the reader in doubt as to his actual authority on that part of the Dutch

Empire.38

While Uncle Jan’s character draws attention to distinct class expectations of conduct abroad, the contrast established between the characters of Gustaaf and Harmen, with the latter introduced as

among is onder or under in English, (“after a couple of years among them”, “na een paar jaren onder hen”), which is interesting here since a power dynamic in the slave-master relationship is at stake, Noothoorn, 67. 35 Oostindie, “Migration and Its Legacies in the Dutch Colonial World,” 11. 36 “Ik was niet weinig verwonderd, te zien, dat de goede man, die nog zeer goed in staat was, om zich zelven aan te kleeden, en zulks vroeger ook deed, daarin geholpen werd door eenen neger, terwijl een ander zwartje hem thee aanbood en een brandenden cigaar in den mond stak,” Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, 59. 37 In the Dutch East Indies, a similar scenario of altered, unwritten conduct is frequently depicted in books, including van Noothoorn’s Lodewijk Vermeer, where newly-arrived Dutchmen intend to walk around as they would at home, seeing it as a healthy, normal behavior that even allows for better appreciation of a new place, but are quickly informed of this being a major cultural faux-pas since walking is a marker of low status and all Europeans must drive in a carriage, Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Lodewijk Vermeer, 52–55. 38 Snelleman points out this and other factual inaccuracies, Snelleman, “Suriname Voor Jongelieden,” 26. 71

“a little bit bumbling and hasty, but eminently loyal and honest,”39 ostensibly sets up a more evident divide between polished upper-middle class and ignorant lower class, only to lessen it with a dream sequence. Neither character has been abroad, so both see the empire through new eyes, but Gustaaf makes careful inquiries about the empire in a way that elicits only factual information40 and shows respectful curiosity: “everything seemed enchanting to me.”41 Harmen, in contrast, immediately demonstrates his childlike ignorance:

But not one of us looked around so curiously, as HARMEN; his head turned left and right like a weathervane, and when he saw a little boat gliding over the river, in which six negroes sat lustily rowing, while they sang a monotonous song in their language to the beat of the oars, the Geldersman put his hands together, while his facial expressions revealed the greatest astonishment. “Get a look at these creatures,” he called, “as sure as I am alive, they are almost entirely naked! And how black they are! Black as soot; are all the people here so black?” he asked the helmsman. “Black?” said the latter, “well no man, there are also red, green, blue, purple, brown, yellow ones...”42

Harmen appears to only serve as low-class comic relief, but he plays an integral role in allowing

Gustaaf, and by extension the juvenile reader, to benefit from Harmen’s candor to increase his own understanding of their colonial setting without looking foolish or being tricked by slaves.43

Yet, the text uses a change in narration style, a dream sequence narrated by Gustaaf, to reveal Gustaaf’s naïve confusion about slavery, removing his perceived exterior polish and

39 “een weinigje lomp en haastig, maar bij uitstek trouw en eerlijk,” Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, 16. 40 Gerard Brantas concludes in his survey of ideological aspects in Indonesian juvenile literature from 1826-1998 that juvenile authors do not question whether the Dutch have the right to be there to colonize, only sometimes critical about how the colonies are governed, Brantas, “Ideologische aspecten van Nederlands-Indische kinderen jeugdboeken,” 1989, 66. 41 “alles scheen mij bekoorlijk toe,” Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, 27. 42 “Maar geen onzer zag zoo nieuwsgierig rond, als HARMEN; zijn hoofd draaide links en regts als een weerhaen, en toen hij een schuitje over de rivier zag glijden, waarin zes negers lustig zaten te roeijen, terwijl zij in hunne taal een eentoonig lied zongen bij den maatslag der riemen, sloeg de Geldersman de handen in elkander, terwijl zijne gelaatstrekken de grootste verbazing uitdrukten. ‘Ziet nu die schepsels eens,’ riep hij, ‘zoo waar ik leef, zij zijn bijna geheel naakt! En wat zijn ze swart! Zwart als roet; zijn hier alle menschen zoo zwart?’ vroeg hij aan den stuurman. ‘Zwart?’ zeide deze, ‘wel neen man, er zijn er ook rooden, groenen, blauwen, paarsen, bruinen, gelen…’” Noothoorn, 27–28. 43 Slaves trick Harmen into touching an electric eel (een sidderaal), laughing at his surprised cry when he is shocked, Noothoorn, 41–42. 72 undermining a clear opposition to Harmen, while also demonstrating his move into adopting local conduct that enforces a positive perception of slavery and white superiority. The text describes

Gustaaf’s dream as two white men herding a group of black men like obedient sheep and he asks himself why the blacks, stronger and more numerous, respect the outnumbered whites.44 Although

Gustaaf looks to be questioning the morality of slavery in his dreams, directly thereafter when he is awake, he models quick reformation to local conduct that does not challenge slavery, but reinforces white superiority instead. Gustaaf witnesses his uncle being catered to by slaves, as cited above, and though surprised, he proceeds to imitate him instinctively without any further reflection.45

Although the dream passage incorporates a didactic explanation of slavery to benefit the juvenile reader, it creates a jarring moment in the text when Gustaaf acts entirely unaware of the history of the African slave trade and its local practice,46 despite having already heard about it from his uncle onboard the ship.47 Harmen seems a more likely mouthpiece for expressing this level of unfamiliarity in the novel than Gustaaf, though Harmen’s character is coupled with comic relief and not serious topics. The dream sequence as a strange textual variation, emerging as if to truly question the rightness of slavery, ultimately reaffirms Gustaaf’s naiveté and his obedient adaptation to local conduct emphasizing national and white superiority, which were all fitting to the time and the novel.

But this incident also opens a potential leveling ground for white classes abroad, reducing the distance between Gustaaf and Harmen in creating model mindsets and masculine conduct capable

44 Noothoorn, 58–59. 45 Noothoorn, 59–60. 46 Gustaaf’s ignorance appears laughably on par with Harmen’s when he expresses his shamed disbelief - “O, foei!” (“Oh for shame!”) - at the entire concept of the slave trade: Europeans treating Africans like cattle to be bought and sold, Noothoorn, 63. 47 Gustaaf wonders in his dream if the slaves are the original inhabitants of Suriname despite having learned from his uncle on the way over about the indigenous Indians and the fact that the slaves came from the west coast of Africa, Noothoorn, 23–25. 73 of overcoming imperialist challenges, even as it maintains distinct racial separation between whites and blacks in Dutch colonial society not yet pushing for abolition.

Facing the limits of empire: economic lifespans, gendered roles, and immigration

Masterman Ready and Gustaaf Westerman outwardly recognize that empire is an indispensable part of daily life by the 1840s, with young men going abroad and a variety of colonial products perceived of as commonplace domestically,48 yet they also recognize a threat of imperial impermanence and inevitable decline, framing it in terms of human analogies that rely on conduct. These novels focus on re-formed masculine conduct shaped by encounters abroad in part to provide positive masculine agency toward countering the larger difficulties of maintaining a financially-successful empire in the nineteenth century, especially regarding an empire’s limited lifespan and adequate immigration to tropical climates common to imperial locations. While imperial decline may not be surprising for the

Dutch, whose empire was more apparently reduced in status and size in the nineteenth century,

Gustaaf Westerman works to obscure the reality of decline through silence on the subject and to instead promote imperialist interests like immigration to stress stability, even while the novel emphasizes the difficulty in overcoming attachment to the Netherlands as a critical component.

Masterman Ready, despite Britain’s status as the leading imperial power at the time, instead explicitly addresses the inevitable imperial decay in a pragmatic way. Unlike the Dutch novel’s tactic of avoidance, the British novel succeeds in underplaying the threat of imperial decline by discussing it outright only to then dismiss it by reiterating masculine imperial power through the demonstration of British sovereignty in the text.

48 Gustaaf Westerman emphasizes that the juvenile reader was familiar with many of the domestically-available products produced in Suriname when Gustaaf takes the reader on a tour of several types of plantations: sugar, cocoa-bean, cotton, and coffee, Noothoorn, 80–87. 74

Van Noothoorn avoids drawing attention to the fact that the Dutch were no longer the foremost world power, as is evident already in his preface that commences the Reizen en Lotgevallen series in the first volume. He obscures any sense of decline by focusing on the financial wealth generated by the Dutch East Indies and uses a vivid human analogy to point to the economic necessity of maintaining a stable empire in as lucrative fashion as possible, depicting a national body with a Dutch heart and its colonial arteries as vital:

the courage of [Dutch] ancestors having conquered regions, these were transformed by their descendants from generation to generation into a goldmine, on which the hope of the present generation remains established more than ever. Deprive the Netherlands of what it holds in the Eastern archipelago, and you cut off its coronary artery.49

The economic welfare, the “goldmine,” which the Indonesian archipelago provides is portrayed as a fundamental part of the Dutch coronary system, integral to the Dutch Empire as allegorical body.

Since cutting the coronary artery indicates certain death, van Noothoorn forcefully asserts his belief in keeping the Dutch East Indies – and by extension the rest of the Dutch Empire as presumably lesser arteries – in their static, yet economically important role in sustaining the larger body of the

Netherlands. They are not allowed to grow or change. This analogy puts forth the imperialist ideology that a Dutch colony must always remain a “source of prosperity”50 and conduct itself appropriately to continue to serve the heart, thus dismissing the historical fact that not all of the

Dutch Empire was at this point profitable, such as most of the West Indies and Suriname.

Gustaaf Westerman re-forms this imperialist ideology of profitability when Gustaaf’s uncle describes the West Indies as a previously profitable plantation that will hopefully “bloom again”51

49 “door den moed der voorvaderen, die gewesten veroverd hebbende, zijn deze door hunne nazaten, van tijd tot tijd, in eene goudmijn herschapen, waarop, meer dan ooit, ook de hoop van het tegenwoordig geslacht, gevestigd blijft. Ontneem Nederland wat het in den Oosterschen archipel bezit, en gij snijdt het de hartader af,” Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Lodewijk Vermeer, v. 50 “bron van welvaart,” Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, 12. 51 “en van de West-Indiën, werwaarts wij ons thans begeven, waarvan wij vroeger ook groote voordeelen trokken, en die, ofschoon thans in minder gunstigen toestand, misschien na verloop van jaren weder zullen bloeijen,” van Noothoorn, 75 and take back a place of significance in the Dutch Empire. This analogy compares the West Indies’ low profitability to plant growth, suggesting merely a bad season or cycle that can be reformed with appropriate patriarchal care and conduct, not a definite end to profitability. Whether as human arteries or profitable plantations, the colonies of the Dutch Empire as a primarily economic venture reflects the contemporary Dutch need for revenue abroad to fill their drained coffers at home. But it also signals the presence of imperialist ideologies built on the premise of compliant, endlessly lucrative colonies flourishing under Dutch care that partially obscures the overall decline of the

Dutch Empire.

On the other hand, Masterman Ready goes against contemporary imperialist prestige by contending the British Empire has a finite human lifespan, even while it contradicts this belief via the characters’ actions. When William asks his father to explain the “nature of a colony,”52 Mr.

Seagrave’s reply creates an analogy between national empires and man’s natural life cycle, noting that

“we English are now the masters of the sea,” but that colonial nations “arrive at manhood and strength” before growing old, decaying, and dying.53 This matter-of-fact prediction of the death of the British Empire, an empire that was continuing to expand, is the example critics most often cite from Masterman Ready as being “at odds with the imperial situation,”54 even causing one scholar to label Marryat an “imperial defeatist.”55 Defeatist may be a strong designation, however, given that

Marryat was not the only one in the nineteenth century expressing empire’s limited lifespan and

Gustaaf Westerman, 12. However, even not at peak profitability, Gustaaf later inherits his uncle’s plantation and the reader learns that it still makes three thousand guilders per year in profit. Early twentieth-century critic Snelleman, in a critical review of the book with its many inaccuracies about Suriname, sees this aspect as unrealistic for the time, Snelleman, “Suriname Voor Jongelieden,” 26. 52 Marryat, Masterman Ready, 1841, 1:267. 53 Marryat, 1:267–68. 54 Green, Dreams of Adventure, Deeds of Empire, 216; Mawuena Kossi Logan, Narrating Africa: George Henty and the Fiction of Empire (London; New York: Routledge, 1999), 45–47. 55 Bernard Porter, The Absent-Minded Imperialists: Empire, Society, and Culture in Britain (Oxford; New York: Oxford University Press, 2006), 154. 76 eventual decline in this way,56 nor was Marryat suggesting it was decay happening anytime soon. The rest of the novel shows the strength of Britons in overcoming imperialist challenges, ending with their resounding triumph over “savages,” thanks to appropriate preparatory work, exceptional conduct in battle, and superior British naval vessels.

Mr. Seagrave uses a more prevalent gendered analogy of nations as parents and colonies as children, with the inevitable result that children grow up to leave their parents’ protection,57 which tries to justify both colonizers and colonized learning appropriate masculine imperialist conduct, but also exposes “the crucial but concealed relation between gender and imperialism.”58 At first glance, the parent country appears to be assigned both male and female gender interchangeably in the text.

However, the novel reveals that empire writ large is conceived as a masculine, economic endeavor, and a feminine mother country is depicted as only having an initial dependent relationship of nurturing and raising a colony. When William asks why countries desire colonies, Mr. Seagrave switches genders so that England is no longer a masculine empire of “manhood and strength”:

In infancy, the mother-country assists and supports the colony as an infant; as it advances and becomes vigorous, the colony returns the obligation; but the parallel does not end there. As soon as the colony has grown strong and powerful enough to take care of itself, it throws off the yoke of subjection, and declares itself independent; just as a son who has grown up to manhood, leaves his father’s house and takes up a business to gain his own livelihood.59

56 Edward Gibbon’s immensely popular late eighteenth-century text is the unspoken reference here, Edward Gibbon, The History of the Decline and Fall of the Roman Empire (London: Strahan & Cadell, 1776). Gibbon’s work spurred many comparisons with the contemporary British Empire, since “it offered a model by which the achievements of the British Empire, and a perceived decline in British political and cultural influence, could be measured,” Josephine M Guy and Ian Small, The Routledge Concise History of Nineteenth Century Literature (London: Routledge, 2012), 49. An anonymous writer expressed the idea in his review of Arthur Mills’ recently published book titled, Colonial Constitutions: “render[ing] our decline and fall, which is inevetible [sic], as bearable as possible,” “Literary Notes,” Sharpe’s London Magazine of Entertainment and Instruction for General Reading, 1856; Arthur Mills, Colonial Constitutions: An Outline of the Constitutional History and Existing Government of the British Dependencies: With Schedules of the Orders in Council, Statutes and Parliamentary Documents Relating to Each Dependency (London: J. Murray, 1856). 57 See Chapter 2, section IV of R.M. Martin’s pamphlet, which presents an argument very similar to that of Mr. Seagrave, also using an analogy of “colonies to nations as children to parents.” Martin specifically notes when he uses mother for the parent state, stating that the child naturally has stronger ties to the mother, Robert Montgomery Martin, Colonial Policy of the British Empire. Pt. 1, Pt. 1, (London: W.H. Allen & Co., 1837), 45–46. 58 McClintock, Imperial Leather, 5–6. 59 Marryat, Masterman Ready, 1841, 1:270. 77

In the space of a few lines, England takes on maternal characteristics as “the mother-country,” providing the life-giving support needed in infancy, and is then realigned with the paternal identity of the “father’s house” as imperialist owner of empire’s economic value. This analogy reinforces a traditional maternal role for women, yet does gives women some agency and a complicit role in shaping empire.60 William does not question the casual switch between genders,61 yet this switch draws attention to how imperialist ideologies materialize in the text to inconsistently depict empire both as needing a “mother” (country) and as a female-free zone: a strictly-gendered patriarchy with men at the top and colonial “sons” coming up in like fashion, having learned appropriate masculine conduct from their fathers. Masculine conduct, then, is at once emphasized as prolonging and causing the end of empire.

To maintain profitable empires and lessen the chance of colonial sons desiring to leave the imperial family, both novels put forth immigration as one apparent solution, with the added advantage of also relieving parent countries of overpopulation or problem populations such as convicts. This easy answer, however, was often less successful in practice, either due to different climates abroad or due to other threatening inhabitants already occupying the colonial lands imagined or mapped as empty.62 Both of these novels frame immigration challenges as part of a

60 McClintock points out the ambiguous role of European women, “white women were not the hapless onlookers of empire but were ambiguously complicit both as colonizers and colonized, privileged and restricted, acted upon and acting,” McClintock, Imperial Leather, 6. 61 Most likely it goes unquestioned because his family imitates the roles and also because it was supported by contemporary sources. Two texts from midcentury, fifteen years after Masterman Ready was published, reveal that the debate of imperial decline framed in analogies of parents and children was still active. In Frederic Myers’ lecture on George Washington, he sees the colonial situation of children maturing and acquiring independence as inevitable and positive for Britain, Frederic Myers, Lectures on Great Men (London: James Nisbet & Co., 1856), 437–39. The anonymous book review already cited in Sharpe’s London Magazine in 1856 looks to Rome’s example (again referencing Gibbon) to question whether colonial children will “contribute to our continued prosperity or ultimate decline,” “Literary Notes,” 270–71. 62 McClintock names this trope the “myth of the empty lands,” McClintock, Imperial Leather, 30. Though neither of the novels includes an illustration or plate of a map, Gustaaf Westerman describes one of America that is sketchy and rather 78 larger problem of colonial conduct, addressed as requiring both lessening and strengthening allegiance to the home country in a new environment and thus deliberating its value.

Masterman Ready indirectly probes immigration by staying silent on two contemporary mid- nineteenth-century settlement issues with regard to the conduct of inhabitants facing the British

Empire in locations directly addressed in the novel: Australia and the Cape. The novel’s silence on

Sydney’s origin as a penal colony63 is worth noting due to the behavioral consequences implicated in its “damaged national birth.”64 Masterman Ready recasts Sydney as an ideal white settler and family destination for British immigrants to work as ranchers, instead of addressing the ethical and social impact of convicts transported in large numbers to Australia and the subsequent impact on local

British conduct, class structures, and loyalty to the home country by these purposefully exiled

Britons. The Cape Colony is first mentioned in the text as another white British colony with a temperate clime, but as the next section will reveal, South Africa is portrayed as difficult to govern and dangerous primarily thanks to wild animals and to the cruel conduct of Dutch colonists found in the interior, the latter signaling a heightened disrespect for abiding by or even believing in British rule. The way the novel conveniently draws attention, in its conclusion, to the economic benefits of immigrating to British Sydney points to the superficially positive imperialist ideology the novel puts forth, while masking immigration challenges especially relevant to appropriately nationalist conduct in colonies.

empty, which as Richard Phillips states, results in “its white space constructing – rather than representing – terra incognita,” Richard Phillips, Mapping Men and Empire: A Geography of Adventure (London; New York: Routledge, 1997), 78. 63 Australia’s colonies were established as penal colonies for convicts beginning in 1788, with more than 162,000 men and women being transported when the last ship arrived in 1868, Quartly, “Convict History,” ed. Graeme Davison et al., The Oxford Companion to Australian History (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2003). Sydney’s transports ended in 1840, a year before Masterman Ready was published, “Sydney’s History.” 64 In the first half of the nineteenth century, Britain initiated a long anti-transportation campaign that “fixed the idea of the convict ‘stain’—of a damaged national birth—indelibly in both England and the colonies,” Quartly, “Convict History.” 79

In a similar fashion, Gustaaf Westerman, as in the first installment of the series Lodewijk

Vermeer, ostensibly works hard to inspire young readers to immigrate to – or at least take an active role in maintaining – the Dutch Empire, including lengthy descriptions of the colonies’ physical beauty and celebrating the Dutch colonies as prizes to be valued with tales of economic success. Yet,

Gustaaf Westerman does not paint a solely celebratory picture about living in Suriname, acknowledging the need to reform conduct in order to overcome the strength of attachment to a fatherland as necessary to successful immigration, even while it deems that attachment as vital to empire, thus weakening its superficial pleas for Dutch immigration, especially when Gustaaf does not remain abroad but eventually returns home to the Netherlands. Instead of simply parroting the common assumption that white Europeans cannot withstand heat, the novel ostensibly works to contend the opposite, at least for white Dutchmen who, with hard work and moderation in a tropical climate, can achieve measured economic success.65 Not all Europeans were purportedly capable of this, however, as when Uncle Jan cites a failed German immigration project to point to a larger problem of inappropriate colonial conduct instigated by homesickness:

It was even tried on Suriname once with three hundred poor Germans. Those good souls were brought over the sea at no cost; they were given land and tools and livestock, but the honest Germans loved their fatherland so much, where they had nonetheless only just escaped starvation, that first one and then another got homesick; and either, to distract them from their sadness, they were so stupid to drink themselves to death with brandy and rum, or else, they got sick and died because they could not endure the heat. In short, before three years had passed, the three hundred Palatines (Paltsers) had disappeared from Suriname, like snow in the sun.66

65 Neither protagonist in van Noothoorn’s first two installments acquires an immediate fortune. In both texts, the narrator reminds the juvenile reader directly that even though the narrator has had the opportunity to show how the rich live in the colonies, the average young person will have to work hard to earn money and wealth and face uncomfortable climate issues, Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, 35; Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Lodewijk Vermeer, 78. 66 “Men heeft het evenwel op Suriname eens beproefd met driehonderd arme Duitschers. Die goede zielen werden kosteloos over de zee gebragt; men gaf hun land en gereedschap en vee, maar die brave Duitschers hielden zoo veel van hun vaderland, waar zij evenwel maar eventjes den hongerdood waren ontsnapt, dat zij, de een voor, de ander na, het heimwee kregen; en of, om hun verdriet te verzetten, zoo dom waren, om zich aan brandewijn en rum dood te drinken, of wel, zij werden ziek en stierven, doordien zij de hitte niet konden verdragen. Kortom, eer drie jaren verloopen waren, 80

Although Uncle Jan directly states an inability for some to withstand heat, he also contends that the bigger problem at stake for immigration is an uncontrollable connection to a fatherland as a familiar, if not always kind, place. Though the novel touts the national superiority of hardy Dutchmen,67 this particular example signals difficulties in creating Dutch imperial allegiance abroad on several levels.

It first draws attention to the fact that these were German, not Dutch, people solicited to immigrate to a Dutch colony, suggesting there was already a lack of willing Dutch volunteers, and second that life in Suriname, including conduct and climate, did not resemble life in Europe enough to prevent an overpowering desire to return home.

A contradiction lies at the heart of this imperialist ideology: how can the text claim the

Netherlands as superior and inimitable, demanding full loyalty, yet also find a way to validate the worthiness of settling abroad in the (tropical) Dutch Empire, which seems to require a lessening of faithfulness to the home country and altered conduct in order to promote permanent and successful settlement? The novel has Gustaaf deliberate this conundrum, framing it as one of both learned and innate conduct that could be reshaped, implying gendered roles in an otherwise male-dominated novel. When Gustaaf is deep in the jungle of Suriname, he questions the appropriateness of nationalism over economic value when he muses that the uncultivated land could be used to prosper thousands of his impoverished countrymen if only men were not “childishly attached to the place where they were born.”68 Gustaaf here disdains this strong attachment to one’s birthplace as conduct that is childish (kinderachtig), which seemingly contradicts his later argument that praises attachment

waren de drie honderd Paltsers van Suriname verdwenen, als sneeuw voor de zon,” Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, 61–62. 67 Early in the novel, Uncle Jan claims only the Dutch as originally perseverant enough among the Spanish, English, and French who also tried to start and maintain a colony in Guiana in the seventeenth century, Noothoorn, 23. 68 “om zich kinderachtig te hechten aan de plaats, waar men geboren werd,” Noothoorn, 104. 81 to land as innate. In response to Harmen’s contention that Suriname is satisfactory but the

Netherlands is “better,” Gustaaf advocates the reverse: “However great the differences may be, man can be happy anywhere, especially because we have an innate love for the piece of land in which we were born and raised, and…”69 Unfortunately Harmen interrupts Gustaaf, leaving the reader to speculate on how an instinctive love for the land where a child is raised could potentially be used to encourage immigration, which also would give a significant role to white Dutch mothers to re-form conduct for future generations born in tropical locales to give them a natural preference for that land and climate instead of the Netherlands. This passage draws attention to masculine gender roles that dominate colonization, and it also causes conjecture about how this proposed weakened connection to the Netherlands would play out in imperial governance.

Though Gustaaf Wetserman outwardly tries to advocate for a more balanced affinity between home country and colony, the novel ultimately reasserts Dutch metropolitan superiority when

Gustaaf returns home himself. Despite being grateful for financial independence achieved abroad in the empire, Uncle Jan, Gustaaf, and Harmen all turn out to be merely travelers, not truly colonial settlers, as not one of them remains abroad. The return home as laudable contributes to nation- building within the Netherlands at this time,70 reinforced by lines cited in the novel from an eighteenth-century Dutch poem, “Liefde tot het Vaderland” (“Love of the Fatherland”) by Simon

69 “Hoe groot het verschil ook moge zijn, zoo kan men toch overall gelukkig wezen, vooral, omdat wij eene ingeschapene liefde hebben voor de landstreek, in welke wij werden geboren en opgevoegd, en ….,” Noothoorn, 75–76. 70 Willem van den Berg notes the nineteenth-century primacy of “fatherland” in the Netherlands for nation-building purposes: “In the first half of the nineteenth century, fatherland and, in its wake, patriotic feeling and love of the fatherland grew into an almost obsessive theme, sung in poetry, discussed in essays and speeches, and chosen as the subject of contests.” (“In de eerste helft van de negentiende eeuw groeit het vaderland en in zijn kielzog het vaderlands gevoel en de vaderlandsliefde uit tot een bijna obsessioneel thema, bezongen in dichtstukken, besproken in verhandelingen en redevoeringen en tot onderwerp gekozen van prijsvragen,”), Willem van den Berg, “Verbeelding van het vaderland. Het denken over het vaderland in de letterkunde van de eerste decennia van de negentiende eeuw,” in Vaderland: een geschiedenis van de vijftiende eeuw tot 1940, ed. Nicolaas C. F. van Sas (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 1999), 310. 82

Stijl.71 Gustaaf and Harmen return after earning enough money, signaling the continued perception of the Dutch Empire as merely a goldmine to be exploited, not settled,72 and the obfuscation of the financial reality of the Dutch West Indies with their sugar industry in decline at the time.73 Even when the Dutch did their best to physically and morally recreate the familiarity of Dutch cities in tropical settings,74 Dutch colonies proved an inferior mirror to the Netherlands itself and incite deliberation on the limits of empire and masculine agency and conduct to control untamed interiors, local inhabitants, and wild animals.

A semblance of control: inland encounters probing white imperialist governance

In both Gustaaf Westerman and Masterman Ready, characters move away from the settled coasts to explore the interior of Suriname and South Africa respectively, using the trips to send a contradictory message, if contemporary trope, about the interior as ostensibly vast and unpopulated, yet wildly hazardous due to there being a population of other inhabitants and ferocious animals living there. While these forays evidently provide didactic scenes and settings for adventures, these inland journeys more importantly reveal how exevmplary, reformed masculine conduct in the text

71 Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, 133; Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Lodewijk Vermeer, 144; Simon Stijl, “Liefde tot het Vaderland,” in Schoonheden uit de Nederlandsche dichters, ed. G. Engelberts Gerrits, 5th ed., vol. 1, 2 vols. (Amsterdam: Bij Ten Brink, 1867), 168–69. 72 A contemporary British work surveying European colonies from a British perspective asserts that the Dutch are more likely than the British to adapt and settle in the colonies: “No sooner has a Hollander become resident in a colony, than he conforms himself, without hesitation or delay, to the genius and climate of the place; and, regarding it as his future home, he abandons all thoughts of returning to his native land,” John Howison, European Colonies in Various Parts of the World, Viewed in Their Social, Moral, and Physical Condition Vol. 1 (London: Bentley, 1834), 338. In Masterman Ready and Gustaaf Westerman, however, the roles are reversed: the British characters are the ones who remain settlers abroad in Australia, while the Dutch return home. 73 Benjamins and Snelleman, Encyclopaedie van Nederlandsch West-Indië, 659. 74 For example, in Batavia on Java, the Dutch dug their trademark canals, which likely instilled a sense of familiarity but ultimately caused major health issues due to stagnant water in a tropical climate, Kris Steyaert, “Batavia as Patria: Literary Representations of Batavia in W. J. Hofdijk’s Work,” Dutch Crossing 36, no. 3 (2013): 217–18. Howison also notes that Dutch towns abroad “equal, in stability, grandeur, and convenience, those which they have at home; and their colonists feel a deep attachment to the land where they happen to reside,” Howison, European Colonies in Various Parts of the World, 340. 83 works to proclaim a sense of imperial strength and control by framing indigenous populations as unproblematic factors with regard to male colonial control, minimizing their presence and rights to the land as existing outside of contemporary temporal parameters.75 The novels undermine this semblance of control, however, when they expose two factions living ungoverned in the interior: wild animals and other introduced settler populations directly connected to the practice of slavery.

More specifically, Gustaaf Westerman points to the bands of former slaves who have run away, or the boschnegers in Suriname, while Masterman Ready calls attention to the Dutch Boers, later known as

Afrikaner settlers,76 in South Africa who have also moved to the interior in part to keep slaves after abolition in the British Empire. Through their characters’ conduct when encountering others in the colonial interior, these texts address how to appropriately map imperial spaces and peoples, despite considerably different sizes, climates, and population makeup in the Cape Colony and Suriname.

These moments of supposed control reiterate white superiority and its right to claim sovereignty, even while they reveal contradictions that weaken claims to maintaining imperialist governance.

In Masterman Ready, the history of Ready’s reckless youth features many episodes set in the interior of South Africa that read like a precursor to later juvenile boys’ imperial adventure stories.77

Notably, however, he does not classify all of his interactions in the interior as an adventure. Ready

75 As Anne McClintock contends, “The colonial journey into the virgin interior reveals a contradiction, for the journey is figured as proceeding forward in geographical space but backward in historical time, to what is figured as a prehistoric zone of racial and gender difference… Since indigenous peoples are not supposed to be spatially there – for the lands are ‘empty’ – they are symbolically displaced onto what I call anachronistic space…[they] do not inhabit history proper but exist in a permanently anterior time within geographic space of the modern empire as anachronistic humans, atavistic, irrational, bereft of human agency – the living embodiment of the archaic ‘primitive,’” McClintock, Imperial Leather, 30. 76 Masterman Ready uses the adjective Dutch to describe them so I will relatedly use Dutch Boer to distinguish these farmers as settlers of Dutch heritage. 77 Matthew Shum notes that for South African literary history in English during this period, the hunter romance was the generic precursor to the imperial romance popular in last quarter of the nineteenth century. Ready and his friends certainly “test their mettle in the African wilds” with several exciting encounters with killing or escaping from wild animals, though they are far from intentional hunters, Shum, “Writing Settlement and Empire: The Cape after 1820,” in The Cambridge History of South African Literature, ed. David Attwell and Derek Attridge (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 188–89. 84 describes only a few encounters with various indigenous populations, implying these populations were small and sparse when historically that was untrue.78 Not only are indigenous populations portrayed as unproblematic, but also uninteresting compared to encounters with wild animals and the smaller population of Dutch Boer farmers on the interior.79 Throughout his time inland in South

Africa, Ready details encounters with baboons, a hyena, a panther, a rhino, and a lion,80 but notably summarizes three weeks with a tribe of indigenous people in one quick, bland sentence: “we were compelled to stop among a tribe of Gorranguas, I think they called them, a very mild, inoffensive people, who supplied us with milk, and treated us very kindly.”81 Ready mentions tribe names and distinguishes between “Hottentots and savages,” but he provides no context on any of their customs. The “Kaffers” are the only indigenous people in the novel reported to be violent.82 In his lack of attention to indigenous populations, Ready emphasizes a larger lack of imperialist concern in managing these large populations in the interior of South Africa, describing them as existing primitively to take away their contemporary rights to the land.83 Ready simplifies the situation through a few fortunate chance encounters where he demonstrates a superiority of masculine conduct and weapons, both of which support an ideology of Britain’s right to these unmapped interiors over primitive, indigenous races.

78 Although no formal census included the black population of South African until 1904, C.H. Feinstein uses backward extrapolation to estimate the black population at 2,500,000 around 1800 and 3,000,000 around 1850, compared to a white population of approximately 160,000 in 1855, C. H. Feinstein, An Economic History of South Africa: Conquest, Discrimination, and Development (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2005), 254, 256. 79 The white population in South Africa numbered approximately 22,000 in 1800, Feinstein, 256. 80 Marryat, Masterman Ready, 1842, 2:80–84, 130, 132, 152, 155–56. 81 Marryat, 2:152. 82“the Gorranguas told us there was a fierce native tribe, called Kaffers, to the northward, who would certainly kill us if we went there,” but as this quote suggests, Ready gains this as a second-hand judgment since he and his friends do not encounter anyone of this tribe, Marryat, 2:153. The fearful reputation of the “Kaffers” is supported in van Noothoorn’s Lodewijk Vermeer, who also has a “dangerous expedition in the land of the Kaffers” (“gevaarlijken togt door het land der Kaffers,” Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Lodewijk Vermeer, 158. 83 McClintock, Imperial Leather, 369. 85

While Ready positions indigenous populations as temporally and geographically insignificant, he emphasizes how encounters with coarse Dutch Boers in the interior are as dangerous, if not more so, than encounters with wild animals, thereby making Ready’s history in South Africa a juxtaposition between white populations that reveals a growing concern of controlling the problematic Dutch Boer population, and their ascribed misconduct, in the interior. When recounting his time inland, Ready depicts two experiences at Dutch Boer farms,84 with the second Boer farmer providing an opportunity for the text to reinforce stereotypical clichés of Dutch Boer lower-class conduct85 and unrefined cruelty toward their Khoesan, or “Hottentot,” laborers. After Ready and his two friends decide to give themselves up to a “Dutch farmer” in “Graef Reynets,” they are treated as little better than slaves, and when one is strapped to a wagon wheel and whipped by the farmer, they rebel.86 Ready justifies stealing muskets and striking the farmer since they were isolated on the farm with no recourse to other forms of help. But the text also nationalizes this rise to power when

Ready cries, “we are only boys, but you’ve Englishman to deal with.”87 Following the boys’ successful escape, the novel tries to buttress its imperialist message of control: if twelve-year-old

84 The first is more objective, describing the makeup of a typical farm with “Hottentot” servants and their daily activities, as Ready and his friends are observing from afar and avoid direct interaction with anyone on the farm, waiting until everyone leaves to steal food and weapons. Marryat, Masterman Ready, 1842, 2:112–18. This first depiction is more reminiscent of Thomas Pringle, who does not negatively represent them in his memoir from his time in South Africa (1800-1826). In presenting a detailed description of a “boor” family, he does show their coarseness, bluntness, and simple way of living that he immediately contrasts with the “refined hospitality and domestic comforts of an English house” in South Africa, Thomas Pringle, Narrative of a Residence in South Africa. (London: Moxon, 1835), 52–62. 85 Van Noothoorn, in contrast, at the end of the first novel includes a shipwreck that allows for his Dutch character Vermeer to explicitly emphasize the model Dutch conduct of these “Dutch farmers or Colonists” (“Hollandsche boeren of Kolonisten,”) in the interior, describing the Dutch-born livestock farmer they meet who has lived there thirty years as still a “real Dutchman, who even in the middle of the African wilderness practiced the virtues of his countrymen” (“echten Hollander, die ook te midden der Afrikaansche wildernissen de deugden zijner landgenooten beoefende,”), Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Lodewijk Vermeer, 156, 157. Van Noothoorn notably elides class distinctions here, homogenizing the Dutch at the Cape with the Dutch in the interior, indicating that a feeling of Dutch comradeship with all Dutch-descended Boers was already at work when it later became a factor during the Anglo-Boer Wars. See Chapter 1, “‘New Holland’ in South Africa? Building a bridgehead between the Netherlands and the Boer republics,” Vincent Kuitenbrouwer, War of Words: Dutch Pro-Boer Propaganda and the South African War (1899-1902) (Amsterdam: Amsterdam University Press, 2012), 23–52. 86 Marryat, Masterman Ready, 1842, 2:145–50. 87 Marryat, 2:149. 86

Ready as a scrappy, foolhardy English sailor can rise above a merciless adult Dutch Boer farmer, surely Britain should be able to exert control over the interior as well. But this encounter with recalcitrant settlers expresses concern about the conduct and ungovernability of Dutch Boers beyond the jurisdiction at the Cape, destabilizing a sense of imperial rule by highlighting the difficulty of controlling non-British white settler populations, especially in contrast to indigenous populations.

When the Seagraves passed through the Cape before their shipwreck, it was firmly a part of the British Empire, although the novel continues to draw attention to the Cape’s Dutch colonial legacy and undermines effective British imperial control when it uses Juno’s character to further stress the problem of ungoverned interior lands and Dutch Boer conduct therein. When Mr.

Seagrave suggests that Juno, originally a slave from Cape Town, may be able to see her parents on their stopover, “Poor Juno shook her head, and a tear or two stole down her dark cheek. With a mournful face she told them, that her father and mother belonged to a Dutch boor, who had gone with them many miles into the interior: she had been parted from them when quite a little child, and had been left at Cape Town.”88 Juno denotes that this “Dutch boor”89 or Boer took part in the so- called “Great Trek” in the 1830s when approximately 15,000 Dutch Boer farmers moved inland from the Cape to form their own Boer Republics.90 The text implies that this Dutch Boer went specifically to evade the British abolition of slavery, though abolition in 1834 and the preceding exclusion of the Dutch language from government in 1827 were in reality only two of many

88 Marryat, Masterman Ready, 1841, 1:18–19. 89 Spelled boor in English at the time, Boers were often portrayed as “boorish” by the British. 90 The three main Boer Republics were founded roughly in 1837: the South African Republic (ZAR or Transvaal, officially recognized as independent by the British, 1852-1902), Natalia (annexed by the British in 1843, part of the Cape Colony from 1844), and the Orange Free State (recognized as independent by the British in 1854, annexed in 1900). Once diamonds (1867) and gold (1884) were found in the area, British interest increased and these Boer Republics were forcibly annexed as colonies with the Cape Province at the end of the Second Anglo-Boer War, officially becoming part of the Union of South Africa in 1910. 87 competing factors spurring migration from the Cape Colony.91 This brief episode in the novel, combined with Ready’s depictions of Dutch Boer farmers, underscores white Boer conduct overall as inferior, deeply ingrained, and very problematic for effective British governance in South Africa, which on the one hand lays groundwork for an imperialist push to annex more interior lands beyond the Cape Colony, while on the other, dilutes white identity as always superior in colonial situations, and specifically undermines the effectiveness of Britain in managing and reforming conduct in South

Africa.

In Gustaaf Westerman, the indigenous native population is consistently depicted as unthreatening to the Dutch population, dismissed as an inutile labor force, with those who remain treated as more of a static sideshow, a purported glimpse into life before the Dutch arrived. When

Uncle Jan describes the original inhabitants to Gustaaf, he phrases it in such a way that paints them as too weak to be useful in clearing land: “‘There lived,’ he [Uncle Jan] answered, ‘uncivilized, but gentle Indians, who roamed the forests and mostly lived off of the fruit of the trees. Many of their tribes, who wanted to resist foreign invaders to maintain their adored freedom and beloved forests, were destroyed.’”92 The passive structure at the end avoids mentioning the Dutch by name but

91 Nigel Worden contends that recent scholarship shows that the reasoning behind the Great Trek may not be as simple as “outrage at the apparent subversion of the social order by the colonial government” with “racially-conscious” Boers wanting to move inland to avoid colonial or African control; he highlights recent studies that show the Dutch trekkers were often economically impoverished and wanted a fresh start, the British government did not stop the migration but used the trekkers’ departure as an excuse to annex more of the interior, and the Boers negotiated and worked with many of the indigenous tribes for land rights and protection, Nigel Worden, The Making of Modern South Africa: Conquest, Apartheid, Democracy (Malden, MA.: Blackwell, 2007), 14–15. For more on Dutch-English tension in the 1820-30s, see Nigel Worden, E. Van Heyningen, and Vivian Bickford-Smith, Cape Town: The Making of a City: An Illustrated Social History (Hilversum, Netherlands; Claremont, South Africa: Verloren; David Philip Publishers, 1998), 133. 92 “‘Er woonden,’ antwoorde hy [Oom Jan], ‘onbeschaefde, maer zachtzinnige Indianen, die door de bosschen rondzwierven en meest van boomvruchten leefden. Vele van hunne stammen, die zich tegen de vreemde indringers wilden verzetten, om hunne aengebedene Vryheid en geliefde boscchen te behouden, werden verdelgd,’” Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, 25. Uncle Jan later reinforces their weakness in a similar phrase when discussing the supposed sneed for slaves because: “The Indians, or original inhabitants, were too weak, too unwilling and unwaveringly attached to their freedom,” (“De Indianen, of oorspronkelijke bewoners waren te zwak, te onwillig en onwrikbaar aan hunne vrijheid gehecht”), Noothoorn, 62–63. 88 implies they are in control without blaming them for their presumed part in “destroying” the indigenous Indians. When Gustaaf visits a remaining group of the indigenous population in the interior, he depicts them as mild, simple primitives nearly untouched by civilization, erasing any

Dutch impact on their lives: “So I was now given the opportunity to regard the first, and then only, inhabitants of Guiana as they are, as they lived, and as their forefathers had undoubtedly lived for centuries.”93 The novel objectifies the indigenous Indians as an isolated group living docilely in the interior, reduced to an entirely unthreatening presence within Dutch sovereignty.

The novel depicts the boschnegers, by comparison, as very dangerous and problematic groups of runaway slaves, or Marrons,94 living in the interior intentionally resisting Dutch control even while they were supposedly under it. In the novel, Gustaaf and Harmen join a party of planters and their representatives in search of boschnegers in the interior after the latter recently attacked and destroyed a plantation.95 Historically, the boschnegers were a long-standing, uncontrollable and threatening element to Dutch imperial control of the colony, popularized by John Stedman’s published account of his personal experience trying to fight the boschnegers in the jungle in the eighteenth century96 and

93 “Zoo was ik dan nu in de gelegenheid gesteld, de eerste en toen eenige bewoners van Guiana te beschouwen, zoo als zij zijn, zoo als zij leefden, en zoo als hunne voorvaders ontwijfelbaar sedert eeuwen geleefd hadden,” Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, 110. 94 The boschnegers are understood as those slaves who ran away much earlier in the eighteenth century and founded their own communities and customs. Not many exact sources exist for boschnegers, but A. M. Coster estimates 8,000 in 1866 when he lists the tally for inhabitants on Suriname as follows, 67,709 total under which: 15,567 free, 38,042 given freedom on July 1, 1863 (abolition of slavery thus former slaves), 8,000 Boschnegers, 1,000 Indians, and 5,000 escaped slaves, A.M Coster, “De Boschnegers in de kolonie Suriname: hun leven, zeden en gewoonten,” Bijdragen tot de taal-, landen volkenkunde van Nederlandsch-Indië : tijdschrift van het Koninklijk Instituut voor de Taal-, Land- en Volkenkunde van Nederlandsch- Indië, no. 13 (1866): 6. 95 See chapters seven and eight describing the attack and Westerman’s unsuccessful trip in pursuit of the boschnegers, Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, 88–113. 96 John Gabriel Stedman, Narrative of a Five Years’ Expedition against the Revolted Negroes of Surinam in Guiana, on the Wild Coast of South America from the Year 1772 to 1777, Elucidating the History of That Country and Describing Its Productions... with an Account of the Indians of Guiana and Negroes of Guinea... Tome 1 (London: J. Johnson and J. Edwards, 1796). Stedman’s novel was published in a Dutch translation in 1799, John Gabriel Stedman, Reize naar Surinamen, en door de binnenste gedeelten van Guiana., vol. 1, 2 vols. (Amsterdam: Johannes Allart, 1799). 89

Elisabeth Maria Post’s popular Dutch novel Reinhart,97 both of which Gustaaf Westerman likely draws on as sources.98

Yet, Gustaaf Westerman is silent about the historical treaties already in place from the 1760s with three of the four major boschneger groups, and renewed as recently as the 1830s, which required certain behavior (i.e., not contacting newly escaped slaves but extraditing them, chiefs swearing oaths of allegiance to the Dutch Crown, and restricting movements in the jungle) in exchange for the Dutch government providing them with provisions.99 The text perhaps avoided these historical facts to avoid drawing attention to how the boschnegers, who continued to attack plantations despite these treaties, thus undermined Dutch control and a Dutch inability to “destroy” or reform them in the same way they had the indigenous population. Instead, the Dutch government was forced to recognize boschnegers as a separate people, negotiate peace treaties with them that ultimately proved ineffective,100 and try to prevent runaway slaves from joining them or forming new groups. The novel draws attention to but dismisses the boschnegers as an unseen, occasional problem, given that the novel records merely one attack in Gustaaf’s initial three years living there, and none in the approximately ten years he lived there afterward. The boschnegers remain concealed and are revealed in this text as less of a threat to plantation owners’ lives than trying to chase them into the thick interior jungle with aggressive insects, snakes, and panthers.101

97 Post, Reinhart, of Natuur en Godsdienst. 98 Snelleman points out in his critical review that a more thorough descriptive source (of which he was one of the editors), the Encyclopedia of the Dutch West Indies (1914-1917), did not yet exist at the time van Noothoorn was writing, Snelleman, “Suriname Voor Jongelieden,” 22; Benjamins and Snelleman, Encyclopaedie van Nederlandsch West-Indië. 99 Three of the four major Boschneger groups had treaty agreements with the Dutch by the 1760s, all renewed in the 1830s; in 1860 the last group was ‘pacified’ with a treaty. Ellen-Rose Kambel and Fergus MacKay, The Rights of Indigenous Peoples and Maroons in Suriname (Copenhagen: IWGIA, 1999), 60. 100 As Cornelis Goslinga summarizes, “It may be assumed that until the abolition of slavery a continuous state of civil war existed between the Marrons and the ruling class,” Cornelis C. Goslinga, A Short History of the Netherlands Antilles and Surinam (The Hague: Martinus Nijhoff, 1979), 115. 101 Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, 90–91. 90

Conclusion

Gustaaf Westerman and Masterman Ready both appear to be uncomplicated, if very didactic, adventure tales that promote time spent abroad in the empire as financially lucrative and personally beneficial to young men. Though the novels concede limits to empire, the depiction of strong masculine conduct, re-formed for/from colonial environments, outwardly overcomes those limits. Yet, these two novels conclude by drawing attention to masculine colonial conduct and its domestic acceptability. Masterman Ready, though championing its titular character as having gained practical experience through a reckless youth abroad in the empire, does not send Ready on to Sydney with the Seagraves. Though his death is couched as the ultimate sacrifice of a loyal hero, the low-class, coarse sailor seemingly has no place in either a colonial nor a domestic environment beyond the sea, suggesting he had performed his role in educating William, who goes on to represent Britain abroad as an ideal upper-middle-class settler. Though Gustaaf Westerman concludes quickly after Gustaaf returns, the novel indicates that Gustaaf has no trouble re-adjusting to domestic expectations of conduct by running a family store instead of directing a plantation, suggesting that he was able to easily shed his adapted colonial identity. Yet, his return to a presumably lower social status in the

Netherlands than the one he had enjoyed abroad also reinforces that the social mobility possible in the Dutch Empire remains closed to him domestically.

Both novels also draw attention to the creation of imperialist ideologies through encounters with others in the empire, stressing the intersection of race, class, and even gender in imperialism that enfeebles masculine agency in the text.102 The novels put forth an imperialist ideology of masculine control over the interior, which is reinforced by subdued encounters with indigenous populations – the “Hottentots” at the Cape and the “Indians” of Suriname – but is undermined by

102 McClintock points out that race, class, and gender are articulated categories, McClintock, Imperial Leather, 5. 91 the presence of outsider, and seemingly ungovernable, settler groups in the interior, i.e. Dutch Boers in South Africa and the boschnegers in Suriname. The texts’ imperialist ideology of lucrative, masculine empire is illustrated through analogies of finitude dismissed by superior masculine conduct yet is questioned by the implied role of white women as mothers in nurturing and creating new allegiances. The contradictions of ideology continue with lower-class first-hand experiences prized over intellectual ones, questioning the role of white classes even while reinforcing racial divisions.

Both of these novels, despite all of their silences and inconsistencies, work to create an overarching ideology that reinforces that imperialism is not problematic – in fact it is rather desirable for improved masculine maturation and national wealth – but that only the poor masculine management of empire is bad.103

Whereas this chapter and the previous focused on young, European white men and women as the key players in juvenile novels that fostered imperialist ideologies via pre- and proscribed conduct, the next chapter turns to the role played by young, African black men, as imagined in novels written by white European men, in using their conduct to perpetuate a positive ideology of paternalistic imperialism. Though these later adventure novels express more imperialist jingoism than the early adventure novels discussed here, they also contain moments that are even more ideologically disruptive.

103 Megan Norcia makes the same argument for early school primers, Norcia, X Marks the Spot, 58. 92

Chapter 3

Reforming Africans:

Utilizing humanitarian conduct to foster paternalistic imperialism in later adventure tales

Comparing two juvenile adventure novels by popular authors from the 1870s, R.M. Ballantyne’s

Black Ivory: A Tale of Adventure among the Slavers of East Africa (1873)1 and J.H. van Balen’s Adda: de lotgevallen van een slaaf (Adda: the fortunes of a slave, 1879) written under the pseudonym of Kapitein

Hendrik Verveen,2 recognizes their outward similarity in offering a humanitarian, rather than strictly abolitionist assessment of the East African slave trade, one focused more on constructing a common, if unequal, humanity with Africans than simply calling for the end of the slave trade.3

These formulaic novels marry the adventure genre with one of the many “popular philanthropic objectives of the day”4 and the way these two novels draw attention to their European characters’ humanitarian conduct abroad promotes a positive ideology of paternalistic imperialism. Even though their texts weaken and alter some of the European stereotypes of Africans correlated with imperialist ideologies, these novels overall confirm the role of juvenile literature in fostering paternalistic imperialism.

Paternalistic imperialism, though distasteful by modern standards, was not perceived of negatively at the time, as Michael Barnett avers, “whereas in the nineteenth century being called a

1 Ballantyne, Black Ivory. 2 Verveen, Adda. Van Balen did not publish any other works under this pseudonym. For other pseudonyms he used, see Kees Waij, “Johan Hendrik van Balen,” Verniaan 31 (2004): 36–41. For contemporary attribution of Adda, see Johannes Godefridus Frederiks and F. Jos. van den Branden, Biographisch woordenboek der Noord- en Zuidnederlandsche letterkunde, 2nd ed. (Amsterdam: L. J. Veen, 1888_1891), s.v. Balen (Johan Hendrik van). 3 Michael Barnett observes how many modern studies of the history of humanitarianism commence with the antislavery movement from the early nineteenth century, coupling the two since the antislavery movement “cultivated considerable compassion for distant strangers – and paternalism too,” Barnett, Empire of Humanity, 57, 60. 4 Bratton, The Impact of Victorian Children’s Fiction, 140. 93 paternalist was not necessarily an insult, today it is.”5 During the 1870s, imperialism in Europe was escalating toward a more confident, aggressive version,6 just after the opening of the Suez Canal in

1869, which shortened trade routes for both the British and Dutch to their eastern empires,7 and just prior to the so-called Scramble for Africa beginning in 1884. The 1870s, thus, were “a decade regarded traditionally as the watershed of the new imperialism.”8 Contemporary linguistic usage complements this shift towards paternalistic imperialism since both of these concepts, paternalism and imperialism, were viewed as desirable approaches to the world.9 The term humanitarianism, on the contrary, was used derisively in the nineteenth century,10 as its relevant definition in the OED reveals: “humanitarianism, n. etymology:

French humanitarisme (1837). 2. Concern for human welfare as a primary or pre-eminent moral good; action, or the disposition to act, on the basis of this concern rather than for pragmatic or strategic reasons. Chiefly depreciative in early use, with the implication of excessive sentimentality towards the criminal and the poor.”11 Both humanitarianism and paternalism made their way into more common

5 Barnett, Empire of Humanity, 233. 6 One example of contemporary aggressive imperialism was Britain’s Muscular Christianity movement, which was taking off at this time and shaped how Britons saw their empire: “It is almost as if the Empire were a games field and the British heroes were athletes on it…Much of this wisdom was found in the aggressive work of the missionaries, who combined belief in God with a belief in British nationhood and its benevolent effects on other races and culture,” Stuart Hannabuss, “Ballantyne’s Message of Empire,” in Imperialism and Juvenile Literature, ed. Jeffrey Richards (Manchester; New York: Manchester University Press, 1989), 60. 7 Britain quickly became the biggest user of the canal once it was opened in 1869 since it cut the time from Britain to British India at least in half, Harrison, Gladstone’s Imperialism in Egypt, 72. The Dutch became the third highest users of the Suez Canal after the British and French by 1876, since the Suez Canal shortened shipping routes to the Dutch East Indies from 120 days around the Cape to 40 days by steamship through the canal, Kuitenbrouwer, The Netherlands and the Rise of Modern Imperialism, 73–74. 8 Patrick A. Dunae, “Boys’ Literature and the Idea of Empire, 1870-1914,” Victorian Studies 24, no. 1 (1980): 106. 9 For paternalist, see Barnett, Empire of Humanity, 233. This chapter uses paternalism as defined by the OED: paternalism, n. etymology:

Dutch,12 underscoring a growing attentiveness to empire in both nations.

Paternalistic imperialism was framed in a way that proffered a shared or “common humanity” with black Africans rather than equality.13 Despite authors using juvenile fiction to convey anti-slavery sentiment from the late eighteenth century onward,14 they made a distinction between shared humanity and equal citizenship, as William Mulligan contends, “campaigning for the right of ‘common humanity’ under the guise of the anti-slave trade banner did not extend to granting political rights.”15 Humanitarian aid at this time was correlated with imperialism, since the growing sense of paternalism all but dictated more active involvement in “civilizing” abroad and the networks of empire provided means for aid distribution, as Patrick Brantlinger states: “Applied to

Africa, however, humanitarianism did point insistently toward imperialism. By the 1860s the success of the antislavery movement, the impact of the great Victorian explorers, and the merger in the social sciences of racist and evolutionary doctrines had combined, and the public widely shared a view of Africa which demanded imperialization on moral, religious, and scientific grounds.”16

Paternalistic imperialism, in this contemporary context, fit perfectly with popular beliefs as an

12 See this project’s introduction for more on imperialism and its use in English and Dutch. The equivalents paternalisme and imperialisme were used in Dutch as loan words from English and French, taking similar usage and meanings. For humanitarianism, nineteenth-century Dutch used words like menslievend(heid) and filantropie, and more modern usage tends to use humanitaire hulp, or noodhulp, with aid organizations being called hulporganisaties. For more about modern samenwerkende hulporganisaties, see “Wie We Zijn,” Giro555 - Samenwerkende Hulporganisaties (blog), accessed January 12, 2018, https://giro555.nl/over-sho/wie-we-zijn/. The French spelling, humanitarisme, is used in Dutch as a historical term limited to a period roughly from 1890-1940 in the Netherlands that groups a variety of social movements together, such as vegetarianism, temperance, and women’s rights, Adriaan van Oosten, “Geschiedenis van Het Humanitarisme in Nederland,” accessed January 12, 2018, http://www.humanitarisme.nl/. 13 Alan Richardson, Literature, Education, and Romanticism: Reading as Social Practice, 1780-1832 (Cambridge, England: Cambridge University Press, 1994), 153–54. 14 “Many writers of children’s and ‘popular’ literature - categories which significantly overlapped at the time [in the eighteenth and early nineteenth centuries]- were active in the anti-slavery movement,” Richardson, 154. 15 William Mulligan, “The Anti-Slave Trade Campaign in Europe, 1888-90,” in A Global History of Anti-Slavery Politics in the Nineteenth Century, ed. W. Mulligan and M. Bric (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2013), 157. 16 Brantlinger, Rule of Darkness, 174. 95 imperialist ideology that maintained a distinct racial hierarchy, validating the home country’s imperialist actions as a benevolent parent for its colonial children, building on family analogies found in both domestic moral tales and early adventure novels.17

Black Ivory, first published in September 1873 as Ballantyne’s annual Christmas book, was one of his most successful books to date.18 It adheres to his well-honed adventure formula19 and confirms his contemporary status as a popular Scottish author who published more than ninety books, including his popular robinsonade The Coral Island (1858).20 Robert Michael Ballantyne (1825-

1894) was identified as a man entirely of his time,21 regarded as a “liberal imperialist,”22 and typically used the adventure genre to draw attention, and potentially financial backing, to contemporary causes, such as lifeboats.23 Though Ballantyne preferred to draw on his own experience when writing,24 for this novel he was forced to use other sources, footnoted in the text, since he was

17 See chapters one and two of this project. 18 Black Ivory’s initial print run was 3,000 copies, with 3,000 more in less than three months, going through nine editions by 1890, Quayle, Ballantyne the Brave, 261–62. Black Ivory was reprinted in 1969 by the Afro-Am Press, chosen for its perceived educational value on the slave trade, Jean-Louis Brindamour, “Foreword,” in Black Ivory; a Tale of Adventure among the Slavers of East Africa., by R. M. Ballantyne (Chicago: Afro-Am Books, Inc., 1969). For more on Afro-Am Press, see Donald Franklin Joyce, “Afro Am, Inc. (Formerly Afro Am Publishing Company, Inc.),” Black Book Publishers in the United States: A Historical Dictionary of the Presses, 1817-1990 (New York; London: Greenwood, 1991), 4–7. 19 Hannabuss summarizes Ballantyne’s formula, Hannabuss, “Ballantyne’s Message of Empire,” 55. Richard Phillips contends Ballantyne’s formulaic novels and the mid-nineteenth century adventure genre can be considered synonymous, Phillips, Mapping Men and Empire, 56. 20 Robert Michael Ballantyne, The Coral Island: A Tale of the Pacific Ocean (London: T. Nelson & Sons, 1858); Eric Quayle, R.M. Ballantyne: A Bibliography of First Editions (London: Dawsons, 1968). 21 After his death, the London Times grouped him with contemporary authors Kingston, Henty, and Verne, “The Death of MR. R. M. BALLANTYNE, Which.,” The Times, February 10, 1894, 9, The Times Digital Archive. F.J. Harvey Darton does not distinguish between Ballantyne and Kingston, F. J. Harvey Darton, Children’s Books in England: Five Centuries of Social Life (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 1932), 252. Hannabus argues that Ballantyne was vulnerable to contemporary opinion and attitudes, turning his work into “social documents” that provide social, historical evidence from the period, Hannabuss, “Ballantyne’s Message of Empire,” 69. 22John M. MacKenzie, “Hunting and the Natural World in Juvenile Literature,” in Imperialism and Juvenile Literature, ed. Jeffrey Richards (Manchester: Manchester University Press, 1989), 152. 23 Robert Michael Ballantyne, The Lifeboat. A Tale of Our Coast Heroes. With Illustrations. (London: James Nisbet & Co., 1864). He raised enough money for the National Lifeboat Institution that a boat was named after him, John Sutherland, The Longman Companion to Victorian Fiction (London: Routledge, 2014), s.v. Ballantyne, R[obert] M[ichael]. 24 After being corrected early in his writing career for factual errors, Ballantyne used this as “an excuse to involve himself physically in the settings for each new tale,” traveling around the world, even convincing his publisher to pay for some of the excursions, Bratton, The Impact of Victorian Children’s Fiction, 139. 96 inspired by an anti-slavery report to take up the cause but had not yet traveled to Africa.25 Late in

Black Ivory, Ballantyne inserts a chapter of direct-reader address that interrupts the plot following young, English Harold Seadrift and his Irish sailor companion, Disco Lillihammer,26 traveling around the heart of the East African slave trade, including the Omani Sultanate of Zanzibar and the interior of Portuguese East Africa.27 The interruption itself was not unusual since Ballantyne often injected at least a partial chapter for contextual information in his novels.28 But here, instead of simply conveying pertinent facts in a more objective fashion, he frames his address as a “sermon” to propose “The Remedy,” underscoring his belief in the imperialist British civilizing mission as one linking Christianity with commerce.29

Adda, written by Johan Hendrik van Balen (1851-1921),30 has three geographically-distinct sections that follow titular protagonist Adda: the first section shows his capture as a slave in the

Sudan area of East Africa;31 the second section presents his experience in colonial Suriname; and the

25 See Ballantyne’s letter requesting sources on the East African slave trade, Quayle, Ballantyne the Brave, 261–62. 26 The Irish caricature was typically part of the formula, where the “tenderfoot hero” was assisted by “whimsical caricatures of Irish, black or other personalities,” Hannabuss, “Ballantyne’s Message of Empire,” 55. 27 Portuguese East Africa is present-day Mozambique, see M. D. D. Newitt, A History of Mozambique (Bloomington: Indiana University Press, 1995). Zanzibar was central to the East African slave trade. The 1847 Hamerton treaty between Britain and the Sultan of Zanzibar prohibited legal slave trading from Zanzibar north to Arabia and the Persian Gulf. British naval vessels were allowed to stop ships, but the internal slave trade within the Sultan’s African dominions was still permitted, which caused the British navy the problem of determining which ships were legal or illegal slave ships, Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 291–93. The Hamerton treaty was vague if Abyssinia was covered in terms of slave export, Murray Gordon, Slavery in the Arab World (New York: New Amsterdam, 1992), 197–200. 28 For example, in The Lighthouse, chapter XIV is “Somewhat statistical,” Robert Michael Ballantyne, The Lighthouse: Being the Story of a Great Fight Between Man and the Sea (London: J. Nisbet, 1865), 156–66. 29 MacKenzie, “Hunting and the Natural World in Juvenile Literature,” 152. Ballantyne expresses this at the end “The Remedy” in Black Ivory: “So doing we shall, with God’s blessing, put an end to the Eastern slave-trade, save equatorial Africa, and materially increase the commerce, the riches, and the happiness of the world,” Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 391. 30 For more on van Balen’s youth, see his autobiography, written under Koen van Dam, Mijn jongensjaren: de jeugd van een bekend schrijver door hem zelf verhaald, 3rd ed. (Alkmaar: Gebr. Kluitman, 1919). No biography yet exists on van Balen. 31 Adda is from Tarangollé in present-day South Sudan; British explorer Samuel Baker visited Tarangollé, describing the “Latooka” people and their village in his popular travel work, suggesting van Balen drew on it as a source since the third chief of the village was named Adda, known for his bravery and “one of the finest men I ever saw,” Samuel White Baker, The Albert N’yanza, Great Basin of the Nile, and Explorations of the Nile Sources, vol. 1 (London: Macmillan and Company, 1867), 192–247, 130, 226, 247. Adda opens with geographical coordinates and situates the novel in the Egyptian struggle for control over Sudan under Mehemed-Ali, explaining that the latter’s cruel leadership and slave recruit quotas have disrupted normal life further in the interior, Verveen, Adda, 3–4. Lovejoy remarks that 10,000-12,000 slaves per year were arriving in Egypt as part of the same Muhammad-Ali’s project of recruiting slaves for his Egyptian 97 third section depicts his time in Paris, France. But the novel gains characters throughout and diminishes Adda’s titular role in a way that indicates van Balen’s inexperience in writing cohesive full-length novels instead of serial publications. Adda was one of his first novels,32 and van Balen would become one of the most popular Dutch authors writing for youth in the following thirty years. He specialized in adventure stories intending to make boys into brave men, and historical series in the Dutch Empire focused on understanding how the Dutch had become “a colonial power,”33 such as De page van de sultane: historich verhaal van den oorlog met Bantam in 1682 (The sultan’s page: historical tale of the war with Bantam in 1682).34 Despite a prolific publishing career including more than eighty books and editing multiple magazines, contemporary critics dismissed van Balen as just another adventure novelist of middling talent.35 Some parents even avoided van Balen as a dangerous influence, as when the contemporaneous critic and author Nellie van Kol cites many mothers as “literally scared” (“letterlijk bang”) of van Balen’s “dreadful” (“vreeslijken”) children’s books and magazines.36

While past and present critiques are not resounding endorsements to encourage today’s readers to look to either van Balen or Ballantyne as prized nineteenth-century literature, they

army, Paul E Lovejoy, Transformations in Slavery: A History of Slavery in Africa (New York: Cambridge University Press, 2012), 153–54. 32 Waij, “Johan Hendrik van Balen.” 33 Van Balen’s editorial remark turning boys into men was in the first issue of Ons jongenblad, cited in Buijnsters and Buijnsters-Smets, Lust en leering, 258. For the advertisement for van Balen’s books describing the Netherlands as “een koloniale mogendheid,” see Gerard C Brantas et al., “Van Brave Hendrik tot Dik Trom: de negentiende eeuw,” in De hele Bibelebontse berg: de geschiedenis van het kinderboek in Nederland & Vlaanderen van de middeleeuwen tot heden, ed. Harry Bekkering and Netty Heimeriks (Amsterdam: Querido, 1989), 273. 34 Johan Hendrik van Balen, De page van de sultane: historisch verhaal van den oorlog met Bantam in 1682 (Amsterdam: Jan Leendertz & Zoon, 1891). 35 “De heer van Balen schrijft zooals verscheidene anderen, wier boeken grifweg verkocht en gelezen worden, niet beter maar ook niet minder. Maar hij heeft boven hen zijn prijzenswaardige nauwkeurigheid en zijn zin voor werkelijkheid vóór,” (“Mr. van Balen writes as several others whose books are readily sold and read, not better but also not worse. But his commendable accuracy and his sense of reality give him an advantage over them”), G. Vallette, “Hiram,” De Gids. Nieuwe Vaderlandsche Letteroefeningen 45 (1881): 186. 36 Nellie van Kol, “Wat Zullen de Kinderen Lezen?,” De Gids. Nieuwe Vaderlandsche Letteroefeningen 63 (1899): 295. See also Brantas et al., “Van Brave Hendrik tot Dik Trom: de negentiende eeuw,” 273; Ros and Jonckheere, “Een geval apart. Meisjes- en jongensboeken,” 274. 98 certainly validate the two as contemporary popular authors ideal for examining the dissemination of imperialist ideologies in their novels. More specifically, these novels establish shared humanity with

Africans, depicted most convincingly in one exemplary character in each text, Kambira in Black Ivory and Adda in Adda. To advance their ideology of paternalistic imperialism, each novel insists East

Africans, as victims, need external intervention and protection from the slave trade, followed by

British or Dutch guidance to become properly civilized. Despite this superficial lesson of European superiority and African dependence, both novels challenge paternalistic imperialism’s ensuing

Christian creed of reform.

Though the novels emphasize shared humanity with Africans, they degrade those involved in the slave trade in order to discredit their rights to exploiting East Africa. To do this, Adda and

Black Ivory posit the slavers’ conduct as inhumane in contrast with British and Dutch conduct as humanitarians, justifying imperialist intervention and concealing past British and Dutch slave trade participation. Finally, the novels extol the enduring value of paternalistic imperialism by creating the appearance of idyllic colonies and successful plot resolutions for the East African characters, both of which contribute to an unrealistic façade covering unresolved tensions in the text regarding stereotypes. Despite a British and a Dutch author putting their own nationalist and imperialist slant on a popular humanitarian topic of the day, they both produced juvenile novels that use the adventure genre to foster paternalistic imperialism, reforming the East African while raising concerns about the result of shared humanity in an imperialist world.

Common humanity: justifying imperialist intervention, yet challenging Christian civilization

Black Ivory and Adda both work to humanize Africans so as to counter a current of contemporary belief, expressed in the novels by the slave traders, that all black Africans are merely “cattle” traded

99 for profit and thus only worth handling as easily-replenishable livestock.37 The novels, instead, validate a common, if unequal, humanity between black Africans and white Europeans,38 most evidently by drawing the reader’s attention, along with an ambiguous voyeuristic gaze, to one particular black African character in each text – Kambira and Adda – depicted as exemplary in both physical appearance and the possession of admirable traits that Europeans would value, such as cleverness, bravery, and leadership. Although shared humanity justifies imperialist intervention to save African slave-trade victims, and thereby opens up Africa(ns) for European colonization and

Christianization, the way the novels establish the humanity of Africans, however, challenges the value of British and Dutch civilizing missions, especially in terms of assessing the role of

Christianity.

In Black Ivory, Harold and Disco meet many East Africans along their trek inland, but the majority of these serve as precursors to Kambira so as to distinguish him as superior to other

“types” of Africans,39 such as those in Harold and Disco’s motley crew made up of “half-caste brothers,” “half-wild negroes,” and “free negroes.”40 The group’s early encounters confirm British

37 Renate Ammerlaan traces the increased development of depicting slaves as more human in Dutch slave novels from 1840-1863, Renate Ammerlaan, “‘Want al was zijn huid ook zwart, teêrgevoelig was zijn hart’: beeldvorming over zwarten en slavernij in kinderboeken, 1807-1863,” Oso: tijdschrift voor Surinaamse taalkunde, letterkunde en geschiedenis 24, no. 1 (2005): 39–51. 38 Jan Pieterse notes that the humanizing of Africans went hand-in-hand with their portrayal as victims: “Abolitionism promoted new stereotypes of blacks – the movement humanized the image of blacks but also popularized the image of blacks as victims,” Jan Nederveen Pieterse, White on Black: Images of Africa and Blacks in Western Popular Culture (New Haven: Yale University Press, 1995), 60. 39 The lone exception here is Azinté, who is the first slave Harold and Disco encounter after their shipwreck. She is depicted as looking “pretty” by European aesthetics, upsetting Disco’s preconceived stereotypes of Africans to immediately point to their shared humanity with Europeans, Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 19–20. The reader is not yet aware of Kambira, but Azinté’s exceptional status here proves fitting later that she is his wife. 40 Harold and Disco end up with a ten-person crew: Antonio, “obviously a half caste of the lowest type” serves as interpreter who “afterwards proved to be a stout, able, willing man, and a faithful servant, although a most arrant coward,” Ballantyne, 82, 85. The other “nine were procured; stout, young, able-bodied fellows they were, and all more or less naked. Two of these were half-caste brothers, named respectively José and Oliveira; two were half-wild negroes of the Somali tribe named Nakoda and Conda; three were negroes of the Makololo tribe, who had accompanied Dr. Livingstone on his journey from the far interior of Africa to the East Coast, and were named respectively Jumbo, Zombo, and Masiko; and finally two, named Songolo and Mabruki, were free negroes of Quillimane,” Ballantyne, 85–86. 100 clichés about Africans, i.e., that they are child-like and typically unattractive if decidedly human, as illustrated by an example showing liberated slave Chimbolo’s happy reunion with his wife:

Really it was quite touching, in spite of its being ludicrous, the way in which the poor fellow poured forth his joy like a very child, - which he was in everything except years…The way in which, ever and anon, Chimbolo kissed his poor but now happy wife, was wondrously similar to the mode in which white men perform that little operation, except that there was more of an unrefined smack in it.41

Even though Chimbolo’s tears “sparkled to the full as brightly as European tears,”42 British stereotypes are used to mark Chimbolo’s conduct and person as inferior, from the “sort of insane war dance” he performed to his “glistening teeth” and bulging “whites of his eyes.”43 His display of affection is correlated to that of Europeans, but his “unrefined” manner reiterates African inferiority.

Kambira, by contrast, stands out as exemplary in comparison to other East Africans, heralded by a textual deviation in which the narrator initially draws attention to his superior person by introducing him to the reader in a voyeuristic manner before the British protagonists arrive as part of the plot: “leaping, as we are privileged to do, far ahead of our explorers Harold Seadrift and his company, into the region of Central Africa…There is something exceedingly pleasant in the act of watching – ourselves unseen – the proceedings of some one whose aims and ends appear to be very mysterious.”44 The narrator renders Kambira not as unrefined, but as “a fine, stately, well- developed specimen of African manhood” nearing European standards of beauty:

If an enthusiastic member of the Royal Academy [of Art] were in search of a model which should combine the strength of Hercules with the grace of Apollo, he could not find a better than the man before us, for, you will observe, the more objectionable points about our ideal of the negro are not very prominent in him. His lips are not thicker than the lips of many a roast-beef-loving John Bull. His nose is not flat, and his heels do not protrude unnecessarily.

41 Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 162. 42 Ballantyne, 162. 43 Ballantyne, 161–62. 44 Ballantyne, 165–66. 101

True, his hair is woolly, but that is scarcely a blemish. It might almost be regarded as the crisp and curly hair that surrounds a manly skull.45

The format and detail here position the viewer as a voyeur, who objectifies Kambira as a noble savage with regard solely to his physique,46 while confirming racist European stereotypes of aesthetic beauty concerning the supposedly typical thick lips, flat noses, and protruding heels of most

Africans.47

Kambira is not only objectified and distanced from the reader, but he is also humanized and brought closer to the reader through comparable European conduct as an admirable leader of a prosperous village. Chief Kambira’s character re-forms the noble savage so that, even as it adheres to European standards of beauty and conduct (e.g. monogamy), it also appears to express a more veritable African humanity, one capable of being on par with Europeans. The narrator both confirms this possibility and eases its acceptance for the reader by using droll irony to praise

“savage” conduct over that of “civilized” men: “This chief, as we have hinted, is a ‘savage;’ that is to say, he differs in many habits and points from ‘civilized’ people. Among other peculiarities, he clothes himself and his family in the fashion that is best suited to the warm climate in which he dwells. This display of wisdom is, as you know, somewhat rare among civilized people.”48 After more such comparisons, the narrator draws attention to popular literature’s role in creating and perpetuating these stereotypes by using children’s tales to denounce “our nursery savage” as an

45 Ballantyne, 166. 46 The noble savage trope was most commonly understood as indigenous peoples living in a simpler, natural state uncorrupted by civilization, thought of as aspirational and attributed to Rousseau, but also used sneeringly for ideologically racist purposes in the nineteenth century. For a better understanding of the construct of the noble savage see Ter Ellingson, The Myth of the Noble Savage (Berkeley: University of California Press, 2001). Many nineteenth-century examples of noble savages draw on a popular seventeenth-century British example, Oroonoko, set in Suriname, Aphra Behn, Oroonoko: Or, the Royal Slave. A True History. (London: Will. Canning, 1688). 47 Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 166. 48 The exception in this passage are the Scottish Highlanders who are praised as civilized people where “the men clothe themselves similarly to the children,” Ballantyne, 166–67. Ballantyne inserts a remark to criticize the European habit of working indoors too much: “our chief, being a savage, takes daily a sufficient amount of fresh air and exercise, which nine-tenths of civilized men refrain from doing,” Ballantyne, 167. 102 imagined European construct only existing in the books of civilized lands (or the form of European drunkards): “No; our savage chief does not roar, or glare, or chatter, or devour his food in its blood like the giant of the famous Jack. He carries himself like a man, and a remarkably handsome man too…”49 Kambira remains objectified for his physical appearance, yet is simultaneously deemed not only human, but also praised for already being civilized and engaging in an active, healthy lifestyle.

Jochen Petzold contends that Ballantyne uses Kambira as noble savage to scourge Western decadence,50 and arguably this critique bolsters Kambira to a more superior position in relation to

Europeans.

Harold and Disco’s conduct upon their arrival in Kambira’s village encapsulates the larger tension in the novel between voyeuristically objectifying Africans as primitive savages and recognizing their capacity to function in the interior of Africa more like “civilized” Britons. Before

Harold and Disco arrive, the narrator likens quotidian life in Kambira’s village to a rural British hamlet, where the town children were playing games “just as our own little ones do,” and there was a town blacksmith “who wrought in iron, almost as deftly, and to the full as vigorously, as any

British son of Vulcan.”51 The description suggests that Kambira’s village may not compare to urban, high-society London,52 but it certainly was comparable to a village in the English countryside, implying a simplicity associated with rural life that confirms shared humanity.

Instead of having Harold perceive the villagers upon his arrival in the same way as the narrator – an implied white, educated British man most similar to Harold’s character – the text

49 Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 169. 50 Jochen Petzold, “Zwischen ‘Nigger’ und ‘Noble Savage’: Das Afrikabild in R.M. Ballantynes ‘Black Ivory,’” in Afrika in den europäischen Literaturen zwischen 1860 und 1830, ed. Titus Heydenreich and Eberhard Späth (Erlangen: Universitätsbund Erlangen-Nürnberg, 2000), 184–85. 51 Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 176, 177. 52 Petzold argues that although Ballantyne critiques western civilization, Kambira’s village neither challenges European supremacy nor is it an alternative to living in London, Petzold, “Zwischen ‘Nigger’ und ‘Noble Savage,’” 185. 103 shows Harold objectifying the villagers as “what we may call pure out-and-out savages” untouched by European civilization.53 Instead, it is Disco who draws a sense of likeness in the same way as the narrator, making the point that the nose-ring fashion of these “savages” so appalling to Harold is no different than the European trend of earrings,54 illustrating the ambiguous irony around Disco’s character that highlights underlying British imperialist class issues. Disco, either despite or because of his lower-class sailor and Irish status, is the mouthpiece in this moment for common humanity, leaving it unclear if the text acclaims Disco. Disco’s character trades on the stock caricature of an

Irishman, suggesting that the Scottish Ballantyne is poking fun of him for being a low-standing

Irishman in the British Empire and thus better able to recognize the humanity of the rural, lower- class Africans in front of him. Yet, the text has Disco frequently disrupt clear divisions of race and class through his poignant observations, even when clothed in humor, suggesting Ballantyne’s empathy with the Irish against the English during a period when Irish identity was frequently degraded.55 In either case, Harold and Disco’s encounter with the Africans of Kambira’s village underscores the novel’s conflicting desire to change stereotypes of black Africans as “uncivilized” while still reinforcing racial and class inferiority in the British Empire.

A similar tension occurs in Adda, when the unusual premise of the novel with a lead black protagonist both objectifies Adda as a “savage” and gives him agency as a fellow human.56 Instead of

53 Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 192. 54 Ballantyne, 193–97. 55 John Miller argues for a similar destabilization and ambiguity in relation to Ballantyne’s writings on gorillas and the use of simian analogies for the Irish around the 1860s, John Miller, “R.M. Ballantyne and Mr. G. O’Rilla: Apes, Irishmen and the Great Gorilla Controversy of 1861,” in Romantic Ireland: From Tone to Gonne; Fresh Perspectives on Nineteenth-Century Ireland, ed. Patrick Lyons, John Miller, and Willy Maley (Newcastle upon Tyne: Cambridge Scholars Publishing, 2013), 402–15. 56 A black protagonist is uncommon, but not unique to van Balen in 1870s juvenile Dutch literature: Cheribon’s De Zwarte Jager (1872) also has a black titular protagonist and follows his story in the Dutch East Indies as part of the Dutch army, Cheribon, De zwarte jager: avonturen in de wildernissen, wouden en zeeën van Neêrlandsch Indië (Amersfoort: Slothouwer, 1872). 104 framing the story through a young white character to stand in for the white reader at home, such as

Harold in Black Ivory, Adda forces the juvenile reader to look at the slave trade through the eyes of an

African character. This choice opens up the possibility that the reader will simply objectify Adda and use this voyeuristic perspective to vicariously play at being a “savage” who has different rules of conduct for his life in Africa, such as when Adda kills a Nubian slave hunter chasing him in the opening pages by hurling a huge stone at him.57 Yet, this change in perspective also sets up an identification of common humanity between black Africans and white Europeans; the lead African character exhibits typical, and admirable, attributes of a young European boy in an adventure novel: he carelessly gets into life-threatening predicaments but uses his wits, physical prowess, and bravery to escape with his honor intact.58 While the configuration of a black protagonist opens an opportunity for objectifying Adda as a mere “savage,” it also establishes straightaway a shared sense of youthful identity, thereby garnering the European reader’s support against scheming slave traders in East Africa.

After each novel designates Adda or Kambira as a strong leader who is honorable and actively takes part in trying to protect his people from the dangers posed by slave traders in his region of East Africa, each text also underlines the fact that this leader is eventually captured and put into a slave train. This turn of events, while adding adventurous elements such as rebellion, perilous escape, lion attacks, and naval rescue to the plots, also raises the underlying imperialistic question: if even exceptionally stalwart and astute East Africans become victims of the slave trade, how can they be expected to end it on their own? The resulting offers of European protection against slave

57 This incident seems to be written to indicate Adda’s quick-thinking and bravery, but also his pride as a type of “savage” delighting in killing his first enemy “because he asked for it” (“hij heeft het gewild”), and thus leaving him unburied to be devoured by wild animals, Verveen, Adda, 10. 58 In analyzing Tom Brown’s Schooldays and its vein of prototypical muscular Christianity, Singh summarizes British “desirable masculinities” as “physical prowess, athleticism, a sense of adventure, risk taking, daring,” Singh, Goodly Is Our Heritage, 148. 105 trading shown in the text promote the need for paternalistic imperialism. By having Kambira and his son Obo become a part of a slave train, Black Ivory demonstrates the happy result of British intervention directly called for by Ballantyne in his “Remedy:” the British Navy saves the lives of

Kambira and Obo by rescuing them from onboard an Arab dhow and then reunites them with

Azinté, wife and mother, under the protection of the Union Jack in the Seychelles.59 Although Adda does not call for direct Dutch intervention or abolition in East Africa as Black Ivory does, the novel treats Adda as a victim in order to set up the Dutch colonizing experience in Suriname as a positive civilizing mission for East Africans, albeit a nostalgic one in the context of slavery since Adda’s publication date of 1879 falls after the abolition of slavery in Suriname in 1863, though the novel is set earlier in the 1840s.

Even though Black Ivory and Adda justify European protection from the slave trade as essential, both texts challenge the accompanying imperialist ideology of a national civilizing mission by questioning Christianity’s efficacy as a means of enlightenment and reform. Ballantyne’s insistence on Christianity is clearly preached in his “lay sermon”:60

The life-giving, soul-softening Word of God, is the only remedy for the woes of mankind, and, therefore, the only cure for Africa. To introduce it effectually, and along with it civilization and all the blessings that flow therefrom, it is indispensable that Great Britain should obtain, by treaty or by purchase, one or more small pieces of land, there to establish free Christian negro settlements, and there, with force sufficient to defend them from the savages, and worse than savages, – the Arab and Portuguese half-caste barbarians and lawless men who infest the land – hold out the hand of friendship to all natives who choose to claim her protection from the man-stealer, and offer to teach them the blessed truths of Christianity and the arts of civilization.61

59 Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 385–86, 401. 60 Ballantyne, 387. The Church Missionary Society published a pamphlet on the slave trade in Zanzibar, similarly using “remedy” regarding the “final suppression of the trade,” but this particular text does not yet take it a step further with the religious “cure” as Ballantyne does in the novel, Church Missionary Society, The Slave-Trade of East Africa: Is It to Continue or Be Suppressed?. (London: Church Missionary Society, 1868), 31. 61 Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 389–90. 106

Ballantyne’s “cure” for Africa emphasizes that paternalistic imperialism and Christianity are inseparable; he calls to further enlarge the British Empire in East Africa so as to bring not only

(European) civilization to Africans, but also “all the blessings that flow therefrom,” i.e., economic profit to benefit Britain and Africa.62

Despite outwardly proclaiming the benefit of Christianity, Black Ivory casts doubt on

Christianity’s very necessity in Africa with how it identified Kambira’s village in order to draw similarities between African and British life for the juvenile reader: “Human nature, in short, was powerfully developed, without anything particular to suggest the idea of ‘savage’ life, or to justify the opinion of Arabs and half-caste Portuguese that black men are all ‘cattle.’ The scene wanted only the spire of a village church and the tinkle of a Sabbath bell to make it perfect.”63 While a church spire and bell indicate Christianity, in this “scene,” they allude more to completing the European idea of the picturesque.64 The text already aligned Kambira’s village with a British hamlet; the underlying message is that this village does not really need Christianity because it is already “civilized.”

Kambira’s conduct is depicted as already admirable by European standards and no Europeans in the novel attempt to convert him to Christianity in the text. These qualifications question the fundamental role assigned to religion in the British civilizing mission and undermine the value of future missionary work in Africa, already thrown in doubt by Harold and Disco’s amateur and ineffective attempts to convert the “natives” of a different village, where the uncouth chief and villagers show more interest in playing tricks with a giant wooden jumping jack carved by Disco than converting to Christianity.65

62 Ballantyne, 389, 391. 63 Ballantyne, 176–77. 64 The novel earlier depicted the European preoccupation with the picturesque, Ballantyne, 174–75. 65 Most editions include an illustration of the giant jumping jack, Ballantyne, 335–44. The fact that Disco made the jumping jack draws ambiguity around his Irish status again, since he was likely Catholic and thus discredited here as a proficient missionary, yet applauded for finding the best way to gain influence with a chief and his tribe. 107

Adda’s text similarly undermines the value of a Dutch civilizing mission by depicting a Dutch slave plantation as the ideal place for “civilizing” Adda under paternalistic guidance from his white slave master. While this scenario suggests apologist nostalgia for slavery to modern readers, it helps the novel foster a contemporary ideology of paternalistic imperialism by reinforcing a European stereotype of Africans as helpless children in need of the parental control provided by slavery, while also championing colonial Suriname as a fertile environment for cultivating Africans to attain high levels of learning and polish.66 The second section of the novel is set almost entirely on one plantation in Suriname, Natuurschoon (Natural Beauty), owned by a “good master,” 67 the ostensibly progressive Dutchman Doctor Van Hal. The text conflictingly claims that he is a representative

Dutchman of the period – a “true type of the simple, decent Dutchman, a figure that accurately fits in the time period in which our history takes place. (18**)”68 – while other moments in the novel stress how much more enlightened he is than his fellow plantation owners in terms of appropriate

Christian comportment. Doctor Van Hal acts toward all of his slaves with “outstanding, humanitarian treatment,”69 instead of cruelly punishing them, like his fellow planters, with a

66 With the historical setting, and the contemporary reality that slavery is already abolished in Suriname, the insistence on Dutch slavery as ideal makes this a nostalgic apologia for Dutch slavery. 67 The “good master” rhetoric from the late eighteenth century long prevailed in the Dutch Empire, insisting on the necessity of cultivating reverence in slaves by treating them with mildness unless they misbehave, Paasman, “La littérature néerlandaise et l’émancipation des esclaves des Indes Occidentales/De Nederlandse literatuur en de emancipatie van de Westindische slaven,” 35. Doctor Van Hal is a nineteenth-century variation, still owning slaves but only reluctantly “because there is no other way to get men [for labor] in Suriname (“omdat men ze op geene andere wijze krijgen kan in Suriname”), Verveen, Adda, 190–91. 68 “echte type van den eenvoudigen, degelijken Hollander, een figuur die juist paste in de lijst van den tijd, waarin onze geschiedenis speelt. (18**),” Verveen, Adda, 91. Michiel van Kempen cites a similar character from a different, later Van Balen work as “the known type of the noble white man in the tropics” (“het bekende type van de edelmoedige blanke in de tropen,”) Michiel van Kempen, “De West Tussen Romantiek En Realisme,” in De as van de Romantiek: Opstellen Aangeboden Aan Prof Dr W. van Den Berg Bij Zijn Afscheid Als Hoogleraar Moderne Nederlandse Letterkunde Aan de Universiteit van Amsterdam, ed. K.D. Beekman, M. T.C. Mathijsen-Verkooijen, and G.F.H. Raat (Amsterdam: Vossiuspers AUP, 1999), 124. 69 “uitmuntende, menschlievende behandeling,” Verveen, Adda, 97. 108 purportedly unique form of Dutch slave torture called blakeren that involved scourging a bound victim with a burning broom before lighting the pyre on fire to burn the slave alive.70

Despite the text pointing to Doctor Van Hal as embodying the novel’s strong message of humanitarian conduct as sincere Christian behavior, the novel’s spotlight on his fourteen-year-old daughter, Louise, undercuts his role as the benevolent father figure and brings to the surface a sustained undercurrent of Christian hypocrisy, beginning with the fact that the novel reveals Louise’s mother was a slave to her father, though her father claims it was a relationship of love. Doctor Van

Hal seems positioned to represent the white father mentoring Adda as the black colonial son. But it is actually his daughter Louise who primarily takes on “the work of civilizing and improving

Adda.”71 This is significant because the text introduces Louise in part two of the novel, titled “De schoone mustie” (“The beautiful mustie”),72 setting her up with circumstances typical to a “tragic

70 In one of very few footnotes in the novel, van Balen uses direct address to condemn “our [Dutch] forefathers” (“onze voorvaderen”) for their “atrocities” (“wreedheden”) toward slaves under the guise of Christianity, citing published and personal sources, then explaining the peculiar Dutch torture of blakeren from a friend that witnessed in 1840, Verveen, 124. Although the term blakeren for this type of torture does not appear to be commonly used in other contemporary works about Suriname, the practice of first torturing a slave by scorching the skin and then burning the slave alive is present in several historical works, as noted by Julien Wolbers in his Geschiedenis van Suriname (History of Suriname): “De doodstraf bestond, volgens de gewoonte van die tijden, in ophangen en radbraken; men dacht voor slaven soms wreeder straf uit, zoo als: levend met klein vuur verbranden, terwijl het vleesch nu en dan met gloeijende tangen werd genepen, en dergelijke wreedheden meer...” (“The death penalty, according to the customs of the time, consisted of being hung or broken on the wheel; crueler punishments for slaves were sometimes thought of, such as: being burnt alive with a small fire while the flesh was pinched now and then with glowing tongs, and more such atrocities…”), J. Wolbers, Geschiedenis van Suriname (Amsterdam: H. de Hoogh, 1861), 134. Wolbers appears to cite nearly word for word from van Kampen’s earlier history, Nicolaas Godfried van Kampen, Geschiedenis der Nederlanders buiten Europa, of verhaal van de togten, ontdekkingen, oorlogen, veroveringen en inrigtingen der Nederlanders in Azië, Afrika, Amerika en Australië, van het laatste der zestiende eeuw tot op dezen tijd, vol. 3, pt. 1 (Haarlem: Erven François Bohn, 1832), 114. A similar scenario is also recounted in Jan Jacob Hartsinck, Beschryving van Guiana, of de Wilde Kust, in Zuid-America: betreffende de aardrykskunde en historie des lands ... de bezittingen der Spanjaarden, Franschen en Portugeezen en voornaamelyk de volkplantigen der Nederlanderen, als Essequebo, Demerary, Berbice, Suriname ... Waarby komt eene verhandeling over den aart en de gewoontes der neger-slaaven, vol. 1 (Amsterdam: G. Tielenburg, 1770), 273. 71 “het werk der beschaving en ontwikkeling van Adda,” Verveen, Adda, 268. 72 Verveen, 87. The narrator defines both “mulatto” and “mustie” directly within the text, anticipating that domestic Dutch readers will not know these distinctions: “mulatto (the child of a white man and a black woman)” (“mulatin (het kind van een blanke en eene negerin)”); and “granddaughter of a black woman (a mustie) (“kleindochter van eene negerin (een mustie)”), noting the skin color the mustie as “certainly much whiter” (“zeker veel blanker”), Verveen, 94, 95. “Mustie” or “musty” may have been more specific to Guyana, with “quadroon” used as well, see Iris D Sukdeo, The Emergence of a Multiracial Society: The Sociology of Multiracism with Reference to Guyana (Smithtown, N.Y.: Exposition Press, 1982), 155. Captain Hodgon records a similar nineteenth-century explanation of the color caste system set in the British 109 mulatta” figure: she is being raised as a white colonial daughter without even knowing that she is of slave descent and not legally free.73 Her very existence and lack of legal recognition draw attention to the hypocrisy in Doctor Van Hal’s supposedly superior Christian conduct.74 Moreover, the way the novel posits her, and not her father, as the one responsible for Adda’s successful reformation to

European civilization, confounds the text’s own imperialist message of paternalistic imperialism via her gender and race. Louise models proper, virtuous conduct without being an outright Christian75 and exposes a scenario challenging to national identity when white Dutch mores and appropriate conduct are instilled by one slave in another. Even if juvenile readers endorsed Louise’s identity as more white than black in Suriname, they would, later in the novel, witness her passably white, Dutch colonial identity being subordinated to Adda’s African slave identity when she settles on marrying him,76 disrupting the clear racial hierarchy of paternalistic imperialism, though giving her a relatively happy, if unusual, ending compared to most “tragic mulatta” figures.77 Although Adda as a novel is not as overtly Christian as Black Ivory, the text’s attention to Louise’s identity and her role as civilizing agent points to the hypocrisy of Christian reform in the novel, shown outright in the last

West Indies that also used the term “mustie” in English, Studholme Hodgson, Truths from the West Indies: Including a Sketch of Madeira in 1833. (London: William Ball, Paternoster Row, 1838), 62. 73 Louise is the second of Doctor Van Hal’s children: a son named Karel from his first marriage with a white Dutch woman on Suriname who dies when Karel is young, and Louise, from his informal, but supposedly romantic, relationship with the female slave, who dies when Louise is very young, Verveen, Adda, 93–96. 74 It is uncertain whether he did free Louise’s mother. The text notes that Van Hal gave her a manumission letter, but also notes that Van Hal “who in name was her master, but in truth was her spouse,” (“die in naam haar meester, in waarheid haar echtgenoot was,”), Verveen, 95. It is clear, however, he had done nothing toward legally recognizing Louise as his daughter and not a slave until his life and her virtue were threatened. Louise’s upbringing as white and near tragic end in slavery follows the “tragic mulatta” trope, but the novel plays on the common themes since Louise is spared from slavery and avoids becoming a (white) social pariah by choosing a black husband, not a white one. For more on the tragic mulatta figure, see Eve Allegra Raimon, The “Tragic Mulatta” Revisited: Race and Nationalism in Nineteenth- Century Antislavery Fiction (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 2004). 75 The text is silent about whether Louise has been baptized, and never shows Adda converting to Christianity. 76 Louise weighs her options and decides to marry Adda in part because he knows what and who she is, since she fears European social outcast if her mother’s bloodline was ever discovered, Verveen, Adda, 274–75. 77 As the name suggests, the “tragic mulatta” figures often faced a tragic ending, usually death, or social exclusion after their black blood is discovered by their white husband. For nineteenth-century reworkings of the “tragic mulatta” figure, see Kimberly Snyder. Manganelli, Transatlantic Spectacles of Race: The Tragic Mulatta and the Tragic Muse (New Brunswick, N.J.: Rutgers University Press, 2012). 110 section when French villain Baptist poses as a missionary who invents stories of converting Africans to take money and hide from the law.78

Contemporary conduct: discrediting slavers’ claims and suppressing slave-trading pasts

In striving to affiliate East Africans with the shared humanity of white, specifically Northern

Europeans, both Adda and Black Ivory draw a sharp contrast between the cruel conduct of all slave traders and the compassionate, if paternalistic, conduct of the main Dutch and the British characters. This juxtaposition reinforces that while both the slave traders and the slave liberators are from supposedly “civilized” countries,79 there is a strong current of Protestant superiority in these novels,80 since it is Muslims who have inhumane, profiteering conduct supported by their religion,81 and Catholic Portuguese who are portrayed in the novels as taking advantage of a purportedly already-corrupt and ineffective government system in East Africa. By condemning and homogenizing the conduct of all the slave traders as merciless – labeling the Arabs and Portuguese as “worse than savages” as Black Ivory does82 or showing the unremorseful killing of fellow slave traders as Adda does – the novels discredit any claims the slave traders’ have in East Africa. Not only does the vilification of all slave traders in East Africa open space for Northern European imperialist intervention and expansion, it also shifts attention predominantly eastward, suppressing

78 Verveen, Adda, 243–54. 79 Ballantyne classifies both Arabs and Portuguese as “civilized people,” Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 168. 80 See Sven De Roode, “Changing Images of the Nation in England, Germany and the Netherlands: A Comparison,” History Compass 7, no. 3 (2009): 894–916. 81 Ballantyne repeatedly cites the statistic “at the lowest estimate,” four-fifths of the Africans enslaved in the interior die before arriving on the coastand bolsters it by showing the unwaveringly merciless treatment of the slave drivers treating Africans as mere cattle, Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 27, 65, 183, 371. Gordon notes that many contemporary sources estimated three or four losses for every African that made it over the Sahara route in the first half of the nineteenth century. Gordon, Slavery in the Arab World, 160. 82 “from the savages, and worse than savages, - the Arab and Portuguese half-caste barbarians and lawless men who infest the land,” Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 389–90. 111 the active slave-trading roles both the Dutch and British previously played elsewhere in Africa, especially in the transatlantic slave trade from West Africa.

Black Ivory’s consistent denunciation of Portuguese conduct, along with the capture of slaves from Portuguese slaveships in East Africa, not only reflects contemporary literature’s role in featuring Portuguese characters in “atrocity stories,” so that “much English writing took on a stridently anti-Portuguese tone,”83 but it also draws attention to Portugal’s odd status as one of the only European countries with early claims to soutmheastern Africa who were still heavily involved in slavery in the 1870s, pointing to a lack of consolidation in Portuguese East Africa that centered on labor exploitation and not colonization.84 Though slavery was formally abolished in the Portuguese

Empire by Louis I in 1869,85 it was not enforced immediately, as Ballantyne bemoans in a footnote:

“Portugal still holds to the ‘domestic institution’ in her colonies, and has decreed that it shall not expire till the year 1878.”86 By calling for British interference in the “so-called colonies of

Portugal,”87 Black Ivory discredits the rights of Portugal to be in East Africa based on their reprehensible conduct, labeling them as “that weakest of all the European nations.”88 Not only do the Portuguese characters in Black Ivory run indirect interference in British naval plans to capture

83 Newitt, A History of Mozambique, 335. 84 As Patrick Chabal points out, Mozambique, unlike Angola (Portuguese West Africa in the 1870s), was “never properly consolidated as a colonial territory,” leasing the northern part to companies so that it “became a labor reserve, without even the meagre benefits which Portuguese colonial rule bestowed on Africans by way of administration, education and health provision,” Patrick Chabal and David Birmingham, A History of Postcolonial Lusophone Africa (Bloomington: Indiana University, 2002), 111. 85 The slave trade in Portuguese territories south of the Equator was abolished on paper in two bilateral agreements with Britain in 1818 and 1842, and in one decree by the Portuguese Prime Minister in 1836. 86 Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 372. Slavery in Portuguese territories continued until the Brussels Conference Act of 1890. 87 Ballantyne, 41–42. Hutchinson provides a similar condemnation of the Portuguese government’s weaknesss: “Over this coast-line extends the withering blight of a feeble and obsolete system of protection which seizes all vessels attempting to trade on that coast without licenses from the Portuguese Government, and so driving the inhabitants into the Slave Trade, which the Portuguese have not the power to repress.” Edward Moss Hutchinson, The Slave Trade of East Africa (London: S. Low, Marston, Low, and Searle, 1874), 15. 88 Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 152. 112 slave traders and slave ships,89 they also substantiate the corrosive effect of slavery on European conduct and morals so as to give the impression that “the conditions in the interior needed the civilizing attentions of the northern Europeans.”90 The lone exception is Portuguese Governor

Letotti’s daughter Maraquita, whose purity is apparently uncorrupted since she was raised in

Portugal and not abroad in the colonies, reiterating the supposedly negative impact of a colonial upbringing on female conduct as in domestic moral tales such as Matilda: The Barbadoes Girl (1816).91

Though Maraquita is supposedly against the slave trade and rescues Azinté from a worse plight by acquiring Azinté as her own slave, Maraquita does not free Azinté, even while the former is depicted as sympathizing with latter in the loss of her husband and son.

The majority of other Portuguese characters encountered in the text, including the cruelest slave trader Marizano, are labeled derisively as Portuguese “half-castes,” reminding the reader of the racial mixing common in imperial outposts, even tolerated by the Portuguese, but here suggesting the Catholic, “professedly Christian”92 Portuguese were wrong to approach their civilizing mission as assimilation, even though nearly all Europeans mixed with locals abroad.93 The result of the novel rebuking Portuguese and African intermixing creates an imperialist ideology in order to diminish

89 Governor Letotti is depicted fraternizing with traders Yoosoof and Marizano, discussing plans to evade the British ship along the coast and passing along intelligence about the later’s plans to the traders, while also consenting to turn a blind eye to the slave trade for extra income. Ballantyne, 33–34, 39. 90 Newitt, A History of Mozambique, 335. One encounter with a Portuguese “gentleman” settler details his deterioration into brutal conduct as “made by this country and its associates,” even worse in Harold’s eyes because the former acknowledges the humanity, if inferiority, of black Africans but insists on brutally disciplining them with his whip to maintain order, Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 134–39. 91 Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 30–31. See chapter one of this project for more on Matilda. 92 Ballantyne, 120. 93 The Portuguese were known for mixing with local women wherever they went, encouraged by their civilizing mission that lacked “color consciousness,” though in practice retained racial prejudice, since it formally viewed Portuguese territories as part of a “future multiracial, multicontinental, and unified society,” accomplished through a process of assimilation, William Minter, Portuguese Africa and the West (New York; London: Monthly Review Press, 1973), 18–19. However, the Portuguese were not unique amongst Europeans; notably, early white English settlers frequently married mixed-race Portuguese Eurasians women in colonial India, indicating that interracial mixing also happened in the British Empire, even if it was frowned upon. See Adrian Carton, Mixed-Race and Modernity in Colonial India: Changing Concepts of Hybridity Across Empires (London: Routledge, 2012), 11–27. 113

Portugal’s status in Europe within the text, but it also reinforces the pretext of scientific racism prevalent in contemporary imperialist ideologies, stressing that although shared humanity with

Africans is an admirable humanitarian goal, a strict racial hierarchy ensuring the latter’s inequality was equally important for the British.94 Perhaps even more importantly, however, the Portuguese in this novel appear to be scorned for not yet implementing the three c’s in their territories as espoused by Ballantyne: civilization, commerce, and Christianity,95 thereby more successfully economically developing their East African colonies for national profit under the guise of a civilizing mission and reinforcing Protestant superiority.96

While Black Ivory creates a prejudiced perception of the Portuguese as rather substandard amongst Europeans – the British seemingly refrain from interfering in Portuguese “domestic institutions” only out of respect for diplomatic custom – the novel depicts Arab slave traders as the real enemies to the British in this part of Africa, conflated and represented in the text by the polite but calculating Arab slave trader Yoosoof.97 The novel shows Yoosoof to be expertly callous, having learned his inhumane conduct toward slaves from his father: “My fader [sic] treat them so; I follow my fader’s footsteps…They [black Africans] have no feelings. Hard as the stone. They care not for mother, or child, or husband. Only brutes – cattle.”98 The narrator outwardly loathes, yet appears to begrudgingly respect Yoosoof as a sophisticated slave dealer, since the narrator cites Yoosoof’s

94 Siep Stuurman elaborates on scientific racism: “The nineteenth century was the heyday of scientific racism. Compared with the relatively flexible racial theories of the Enlightenment, this was a much harder racism, built on the doctrine that skin color was destiny and that the measurement of skulls could determine an individual’s ‘race.’” Siep Stuurman, The Invention of Humanity: Equality and Cultural Difference in World History (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2017), chap. 7. 95 Hannabuss, “Ballantyne’s Message of Empire,” 66. 96 The Portuguese civilizing mission moved toward a variation of the three c’s during the 1870s, one that substituted compulsory native labor for slavery, Miguel Bandeira Jerónimo, The “civilising Mission” of Portuguese Colonialism, 1870-1930 (Basingstoke: Palgrave Macmillan, 2015), 1–3. 97 When Black Ivory was translated into Dutch in 1926, the title was changed to Yoosoof, the slave trader, Robert Michael Ballantyne, Yoosoof de Slavenhandelaar, trans. W.J.A. Roldanus Jr. (Enschede: C.G. Campagne, 1926). 98 Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 58. 114 understanding how to maximize profit by remaining on friendly terms with the Portuguese

Governor and knowing when to create elaborate ruses to escape capture by “these meddling dogs the English,”99 including using Harold, Disco, and weakened slaves deemed “damaged goods” as a sacrificial diversion.100 The novel even privileges Yoosoof’s perspective by twice following his actions away from main protagonist Harold and has the Portuguese Governor draw a tongue-in- cheek likeness of Arab slave traders “as smart smugglers of negroes” in the same way as Scots are

“smart smugglers of the dew of the mountain” or whiskey, praising the dogged persistence of both parties.101 Due to Yoosoof’s slave-trading routes, he inadvertently rescues Harold and Disco twice, but in both cases, the novel emphasizes Yoosoof’s refusal to acknowledge the humanity of black

Africans, focusing on this aspect to discredit his conduct and his trading rights, leaving him unchanged and uncaptured at the end to signal the difficulty in either reforming or eradicating the

Arab slave trader from East Africa.

The conduct of both the Muslim and Portuguese slave traders sharply contrasts with that of the merciful British tars shown in this and other contemporary novels,102 shifting the focus to the latter’s role as humanitarians and suppressing their previous role as dominant transatlantic slavers less than a century before.103 British sailors’ attitudes toward and treatment of slaves aboard

99 Ballantyne, 26. 100 Ballantyne, 58–64. 101“The Arabs are smart smugglers of negroes – very much as your people who live in the Scottish land are smart smugglers of the dew of the mountain – what your great poet Burns speaks much of – I forget its name – it is not easy to put them down,” Ballantyne, 47. “Mountain dew” was a colloquial, generic nineteenth-century term for whiskey, often illicitly-distilled Highland whiskey, see Oxford English Dictionary, s.v. “mountain dew,” accessed March 15, 2018, www.oed.com.proxy.uchicago.edu/view/Entry/254122. 102“These were soon lifted tenderly into the boat. ‘Here, Jackson,’ cried Lindsay, lifting one of the children in his strong arms, and handing it to the sailor, ‘carry that one very carefully, she seems to be almost gone. God help her, poor, poor child!’” Ballantyne, 290. The sailors in Kingston’s Ned Garth are described as dedicated “nurses,” tending the slaves as their national and Christian duty to fellow man, William Henry Giles Kingston, Ned Garth or, Made Prisoner in Africa: A Tale of the Slave Trade (London: Society for Promoting Christian Knowledge; Pott, Young & Co., 1878), 20, 83. 103 “Black Ivory avoids British accountability for the trade, and puts the blame primarily on the Arabs (the Sultan of Zanzibar) and the Portuguese. He portrays Africans as defenseless savages and the British as benevolent saviors. It is almost impossible for someone without familiarity with the history of the Atlantic Slave Trade to appreciate Britain’s 115 transatlantic slave ships were likely comparable to that of the Arabs so vilified here, as alluded to in published slave narratives like that of Olaudah Equiano from 1789,104 but Britain’s past conduct was quietly omitted from the novel. Instead, the novel references British success in ending the West

African slave trade by mentioning Wilberforce in the preface and drawing on the seemingly successful implementation in West Africa of using “legitimate commerce”105 to move away from slave trading toward crops like ivory, rubber, gum arabic, and cloves, ignoring the typical increase in slave labor used to export these “legitimate” products.106

Ballantyne’s focus on the humanitarian cause of ending the East African slave trade conceals not only past British participation in the West African trade, but also contemporary hypocrisy of

Britain successfully protecting its economic interests in the eastern region first and covering it with moral claims thereafter.107 The British reality of the time was that suppressing the East African slave trade was only a priority so long as it weakened British rivals and did not upset the European balance of power.108 In Black Ivory, the Suez Canal is not mentioned directly, but its structuring absence draws attention to this British willingness to compromise its “humanitarian inspiration” for

active involvement and domination of the trade at one point in time.” Logan, Narrating Africa, 57. For numbers, see the table in “Estimates,” Voyages: The Trans-Atlantic Slave Trade Database, accessed April 18, 2017, http://www.slavevoyages.org/assessment/estimates. Britain was the second largest carrier of slaves by volume across the Atlantic, behind Portugal/Brazil in the history of the transatlantic slave trade (1501-1875). 104 Equiano does not specify that the slave ship he travels aboard is a British one, only that “those white men with horrible looks, red faces, and loose hair” were taking the slaves to their country to work, and the ship lands first in Barbadoes, then the British colony of Virginia; the conditions aboard the ship were terrible and Equiano was flogged repeatedly for not eating, Olaudah Equiano, The Interesting Narrative of the Life of Olaudah Equiano, or Gustavus Vassa, the African, Written by Himself. (London: Printed for and sold by Olaudah Equiano., 1789), 72; 70–88. 105 Hutchinson, The Slave Trade of East Africa, 11. 106 Lovejoy notes that contrary to abolitionists’ arguments about the benefit of pursuing “legitimate trade” in order to ending the slave trade, “the end of the external slave trade did not mean the collapse of the internal trade,” but rather its increase to export these other commodities. Lovejoy, Transformations in Slavery, 141. 107 Kathryn Castle notes the same situation in history textbooks of the time, Kathryn Castle, Britannia’s Children: Reading Colonialism through Children’s Books and Magazines (Manchester; New York: Manchester University Press, 1996), 65–67. 108 For a summary on British self-interest driving its actions in East Africa, see Nwulia’s preface and opening remarks in Chapter V, Moses D. E. Nwulia, Britain and Slavery in East Africa (Washington: Three Continents Press, 1975). 116 its regional imperialist priorities.109 Though Black Ivory’s publication in 1872 pre-dates full British involvement in the Suez Canal as partial owner (1875) and later occupier of Egypt (1882),110

Ballantyne’s cutting criticism of British policy not to interfere in another country’s “domestic institutions”111 already highlights Britain’s hypocritical stance. Though advocating abolition of slave trading as a moral prerogative, Britain did not initially try to end internal slavery in Africa nor within

Muslim territories in the Near East, such as Turkey or Zanzibar. Within the British Empire, British policy looked hypocritical in maintaining liberated slaves abroad as refugees but using them as indentured labor. While Black Ivory criticizes the British government for not providing more naval support to better patrol the East African coast, it leaves out many of the other hypocritical aspects of British participation in slave trading and abolitionist policies, past and present.

Adda uses a different strategy than Black Ivory but accomplishes a similar result of condemning cruel slave trader conduct to discredit their claims in East Africa. Instead of juxtaposing

European conduct with that of Arab slave traders in East Africa, the novel omits a Dutch presence from the first section,112 which then accentuates the paternalistic, humanitarian conduct of Doctor

Van Hal in the second section in Suriname. Throughout the first section, the Muslim slave traders are conflated, vilified, and depicted as willing to perform whatever deceit or harsh action necessary to make a profit, all in the name of their religion: the Ottoman Turk slave dealer deceives the

109 T.G. Otte, “‘A Course of Unceasing Remonstrance’: British Diplomacy and the Suppression of the Slave Trade in the East,” in Slavery, Diplomacy and Empire: Britain and the Suppression of the Slave Trade, 1807-1975, ed. Keith Hamilton and Patrick Salmon (Sussex: Sussex Academic Press, 2013), 94–95. 110 In 1875, British Prime Minister Disraeli purchased the Egyptian shares of the Suez Canal Company from the nearly insolvent Khedive, and later justified a full British occupation of Egypt in 1882 in order to keep the Suez Canal “neutral,” Harrison, Gladstone’s Imperialism in Egypt, 68. 111 Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 280, 291–92. 112 The only Europeans mentioned in passing are the Portuguese when Arab slave traders state their intent to sell their slaves the Portuguese on the coast, Verveen, Adda, 72, 76. The other Portuguese presence occurs in the last chapter of the section when the reader learns that the coffee house in a little port town used to belong to a Portuguese family before they were murdered and it was taken over by the current Arab proprietor, Verveen, 76–77. 117

Latouka people to capture more of them as slaves; two Arab slave hunters trick their hired African soldiers into chains to sell them for greater profit; and one Arab slave hunter kills the other to take all the earnings for himself, only to be poisoned and murdered by a conniving Moor. All of these actions are justified as inevitable “by Allah,”113 whose name is invoked more than twelve times in seven pages by the last three characters. These depictions forcefully argue for the inferiority and danger of Islam, depicting the religion as supporting, if not also causing, cruel behavior.

Though Adda does not make outright claims for abolition or intervention in East Africa in the same way Black Ivory does, the novel provides a clear response for the juvenile Dutch reader in the late 1870s to the East African slave trade: one that shifts the blame to other nationalities and erases Dutch historical accountability. The novel recasts Dutch slavery under Doctor Van Hal in colonial Suriname in the 1840s as a paternalistic sanctuary of sorts, while Adda’s unlikely, though technically plausible, slave route from East Africa, closer to Sudan, around the Cape to Suriname114 suppresses the Dutch slave-trading past in other locations in Africa,115 i.e., the transatlantic slave trade from the seventeenth to early nineteenth centuries;116 the Dutch East India Company’s role in importing slaves to the Cape (1652-1795);117 the existent, but not well-documented, slave trade in the

113 “bij Allah,” Verveen, Adda, 79. 114 It would have been more likely for Adda, to have ended up on an Arab dhow going north to the closer Arab and Persian world where the slave trade was still legal, or even south east to the present-day French islands of Mauritius and Réunion, see Lovejoy, Transformations in Slavery, 151; Gordon, Slavery in the Arab World, 200–201. Yet, the novel contends that he was sold to a Portuguese captain, and it is plausible: the Portuguese and Spaniards at this time regularly bought slaves from the Swahili Coast to ship around the Cape to the Americas, and thus “accounted for a substantial total of the proportion taken from the [Swahili] coast during the first four decades of the century after which numbers fell off appreciably,”Gordon, 184. See also Lovejoy, Transformations in Slavery, 156. Even so, it seems more likely that Adda would have arrived in the former Portuguese colony of Brazil, where the illegal slave trade still flourished in the 1840s, see Herbert S Klein, The Atlantic Slave Trade (Cambridge; New York: Cambridge University Press, 2010), 71–72. 115 See Rik Van Welie, “Slave Trading and Slavery in the Dutch Colonial Empire: A Global Comparison,” New West Indian Guide/Nieuwe West-Indische Gids 82, no. 1–2 (2008): 47–96. 116 The Dutch ranked fourth by volume for the transatlantic slave trade, bringing approximately 554,000 slaves across from roughly 1576-1850, “Estimates.” 117 The Dutch East Indian Company (VOC) imported 63,000 slaves to the Cape during their rule there but they were from a variety of geographic areas, some being Southeast Africa, in addition to Southeast Asia, South Asia, and Madagascar. Oostindie, “Migration and Its Legacies in the Dutch Colonial World,” 13. 118

Indian Ocean region to the Dutch East Indies;118 and though not officially slave-trading, the dubious recruitment policies used in the Dutch Gold Coast between 1831-1872 for black soldiers to serve in the Dutch East Indian army.119 By the time of Adda’s publication in 1879, slave trading and slavery within the Dutch Empire were both abolished, but slavery’s outwardly glowing example in the novel champions implementing paternalistic imperialism elsewhere in the Dutch Empire, justifying encounters to exert control over other parts of the Dutch East Indies.

Van Balen may have simply been looking for a way to tie a popular issue – the slave trade in

East Africa – to a national colonial setting both compelling to him and familiar to his domestic

Dutch readers,120 but he also implicitly draws on a timely, contentious concern in the Dutch Empire: the ongoing, expensive Aceh War (1873-1914). By vilifying and conflating all of the eastern Muslim nationalities in the first section (Ottoman Turks, Arabs, and Moors), the novel similarly discredits and vilifies the rebellious Muslim Sultanate of Aceh in the Dutch East Indies, a sore spot for Dutch audiences at this time due to the many Dutch casualties incurred.121 Though Aceh was nearly 8,000

118 Oostindie, 9–12. The Dutch novel examined in chapter two, Gustaaf Westerman (1843), suggests the historical Dutch slave trade to Asia had its roots in West, not East, Africa: “They [the Dutch] knew that on the west coast of Africa there lived a multitude of wild and very uncivilized tribes, many of whom were annually sent as slaves to Asia, (“Zij wisten, dat aan de westkust van Afrika eene menigte wilde en zeer onbeschaafde volkstammen woonden, van welke er jaarlijks velen als slaven naar Azië werden uitgevoerd”), Noothoorn, Reizen En Lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, 63. 119 The British protested Dutch recruitment of “Black Dutchmen” (Zwarte Hollanders or Belanda Hitam as they were known in the East Indies) as covert slave trading since it involved (former) slaves and deducted payments for contracts. Ineke van Kessel, Zwarte Hollanders: Afrikaanse soldaten in Nederlands-Indië (Amsterdam: KIT Publishers, 2005). Between 1836-1842, the Dutch bought 2,035 young men and sent 1,985 to the East Indies and 50 to the West Indies as soldiers. Between 1858-1862, they bought another 455 slaves for the East Indies, Lovejoy, Transformations in Slavery, 152. The novel by Cheribon tells the fictional story of one of these Black Dutchmen in the East Indies set in the 1830s, Cheribon, De zwarte jager. 120 Michiel van Kempen, Een geschiedenis van de Surinaamse literatuur Dl. III, De geschreven literatuur van 1596 tot 1923, vol. 3 (Paramaribo: Okopipi, 2002), 269, 286. Van Balen later wrote a guide on immigrating to Suriname, Johan Hendrik van Balen, Naar Suriname!: gids voor allen, die wenschen te emigreeren (Kampen: Laurens van Hulst, 1907). 121 With easier access thanks to the Suez Canal, the Dutch were more interested in exclusively controlling the trade waters around the Sultanate of Aceh, which had been guaranteed independence in the Anglo-Dutch Treaty of 1824 and had long been a protectorate of the Ottoman Empire. Aceh lost its British protection, however, in the Siak Treaty of 1871, which initiated a war with the Dutch in 1873 that was costly in terms of money and human lives on both sides. Adrian Vickers, A History of Modern Indonesia (Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, 2013), 10–14. For a more detailed account of the origins of the Aceh War, see Kuitenbrouwer, The Netherlands and the Rise of Modern Imperialism, 88–101. 119 nautical miles from the Netherlands via the Suez Canal and nearly 4,000 nautical miles from where the first part of the novel is set, the Dutch were passing through the broader region via the Suez

Canal to send troops to the Dutch East Indies more quickly, underlining Muslim vilification as pertinent to Dutch imperialist logistics for their eastern empire. If not for the direct mention on the first page of the earlier 1841 setting, the first section, in lacking other chronological markers, could otherwise easily be interpreted as taking place at the same time as the Aceh War when Dutch attention toward the Suez and eastward would have been heightened. By degrading Muslim conduct in East Africa as inhumane, the novel does not push for Dutch intervention there, but it does send a more general imperialist missive validating the continued struggle in the Dutch East Indies and confirming Dutch superiority of governance over colonial lands.

The happy façade of paternalistic imperialism: idyllic colonies and successful resolutions

By styling places in their own imperial domains as idyllic colonies, both novels laud paternalistic imperialism as constructively benefiting East Africans. The novels, however, do not succeed at entirely concealing the ongoing cruelty to Africans in the Seychelles and Suriname, despite their deliberate attempts to hide national responsibility. Instead of concluding the novels in these colonies, both texts resolve their plots by sending their exemplary black protagonists elsewhere to lead an ostensibly happy, productive life. However, these “successful” endings in South Africa and

America reveal the authors’ attempts to reinforce stereotypes the text previously challenged with regard to Africans, insinuating that by recognizing these Africans as both human and civilized, they have now become a threat to the very ideology of paternalistic imperialism.

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In Black Ivory, the narrative features the Seychelles122 as a safe, Christian place for the British navy to take liberated slaves, but it avoids depicting the labor conditions on the Seychelles, which were strikingly similar to colonial plantation slavery. Twice in the novel, the reader travels with

British ships full of liberated slaves to the Seychelles, but both times, the plot focuses on the missionary hospital saving weakened African children,123 highlighting Christianity’s role in fostering the novel’s ideology of paternalistic imperialism. Though the text makes clear that there are adults on board these ships, their plight is left unmentioned, except for Kambira’s wife, Azinté.124

Historical sources reveal that most Africans who arrived in the Seychelles were left with little choice but to take up employment on plantations as “apprentices” in exchange for wages and board in a system described as “compulsory labour” and “little better than slavery,”125 with no hope of educational advancement.126 While some Africans could “set up for themselves on ground allotted to them by the government,”127 all were in a state of involuntary exile, far from home in a French creole plantation society,128 prompting British royal commissioners to wonder “whether the forced indenture of freed slaves in these asylums was really an improvement for ex-slaves.”129

122 The Seychelles were claimed by the French in 1744, occupied by the British beginning in 1794, became a British colony subordinated to Mauritius in 1810, gained British crown colony status in 1903, and became fully independent as Republic of Seychelles in 1976. 123 Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 302–3, 399–410. 124 Only the lot of Kambira’s wife, Azinté, as a missionary hospital worker is mentioned and only because another white character, Lt. Lindsay, has a vested interest in her welfare as a means of gaining favor with his love interest and Azinté’s former master, Maraquita. 125 Captain Sullivan for the British navy is cited in Caroline Shaw, Britannia’s Embrace: Modern Humanitarianism and the Imperial Origins of Refugee Relief (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2015), 199. 126 Around the time of Black Ivory’s publication, reports from a visit by Bishop Tozer to the Seychelles in 1872 revealed that there were no schools or educational opportunities for adults that might improve their lot, with the same situation still in place in a report by Captain Prideaux from 1874. Nwulia, Britain and Slavery in East Africa, 151. 127 Kingston’s Ned Garth addresses, albeit minimally and uncritically, the situation on the Seychelles by stating that the slaves either used the government-allotted ground or were “hired by planters” and were “far better off than they would have been in their own country, as they were free from the attacks of hostile tribes or wild animals, and ran no risk of again being carried off by Arab slave dealers.” Kingston, Ned Garth or, Made Prisoner in Africa, 85. 128 Shaw, Britannia’s Embrace, 199. 129 Shaw, 198. While the British government viewed them as British refugees, it was clearly finding it difficult, according to its own reports “On Slave Trade (East Coast of Africa),” to provide inexpensive, acceptable living conditions in British territories around the Indian Ocean that left the Africans better off than being a slave. Great Britain Parliament 121

The novel refrains from commenting on the situation of forced labor in the Seychelles, instead only conceding the distance from mainland Africa as a drawback, since it left more time for

Arab dhows to run illegal slave ships in the absence of the British navy.130 Yet, the ready departure from the Seychelles for Kambira, Azinté, and Obo, with their willingness to move to the Cape with

Harold and Disco, suggests Ballantyne’s awareness of the lack of opportunities for Kambira’s family there. Whether this was an innocent or, more likely, intended oversight by the author,131 the

Seychelles as destination conflictingly makes the case for continued British expansion and domination in the guise of paternalism, while the silence surrounding the Seychelles’ labor conditions undercut the imperialist ideology of idyllic British refuge so outwardly championed.

Black Ivory’s conclusion in South Africa comes across not only as a happy one for Kambira and his family, reunited and safe from slave traders, but also as a positively paternalistic outcome.

Harold is emblematic of white, paternalistic Britain, looking out for the livelihood of his diverse colonial family in South Africa by providing a partnership in the new branch of his father’s mercantile business for Lt. Lindsay, now married to Portuguese Maraquita, who in turn employs

Kambira as head gardener, Azinté as cook, and even son Obo as a “page-in-waiting.”132

With this ending, the novel erodes Kambira’s diminishing agency to culminate in repositioning Britain, care of Harold’s humanitarian conduct, as the benevolent benefactor; Kambira loses his village, status, and nearly his family to the East African slave trade, for which the novel blames the Arabs and Portuguese, but ultimately through which Britain, via Harold, retains him in an inferior and exiled position in the British Empire. Kambira and family are reduced to servant

House of Commons, Report from the Select Committee on Slave Trade (East Coast of Africa); Together with the Proceedings of the Committee, Minutes of Evidence, Appendix and Index (London: House of Commons, 1871). 130 Ballantyne, Black Ivory, 33–34, 399. 131 Ballantyne’s timely and informed acknowledgment within the novel of Sir Bartle Frere’s mission to Zanzibar in 1872 suggests his continued awareness of contemporary issues in the area, Ballantyne, 372, 387. 132 Ballantyne, 414. 122 roles, and shown to be gratefully contented in those roles, in a way that reinforces European ideas of

African inferiority and clichés of black slaves grateful to their white masters after being freed.133

Harold’s promise to see Kambira and his family “comfortably settled” apparently never included returning him to full self-sufficiency. Though Kambira initially represented a celebration of African potential who challenged “anti-Negro stereotypes,”134 he was also always a potential complication and threat to the Christian civilizing mission in that he was able to wisely rule a “civilized” town without being Christian or European, raising questions about what it would mean to fully recognize his civilized humanity in the British Empire instead of containing him in servitude.

Disco’s actions and words in the final paragraphs of the novel draw a stark contrast to

Kambira’s supposed happy ending, pointing to the unresolved tensions of class and race in the text.

Before Disco returns to Ireland to marry an Irish woman and bring her back to the colony, he

“remained at the Cape to assist Kambira” as a gardener for Maraquita, then takes on the role of gardener for Harold, implying a similar inferior capacity for Disco and Kambira to perform only manual labor. But while Kambira remains in servitude in perpetuity to reduce any threat to the colonial social order, Disco eventually starts his own farm. In the penultimate paragraph, Irish sailor

Disco reiterates Ballantyne’s “remedy” and “cure” in his own words, drawing attention on the very last page to Ballantyne’s ambiguity surrounding Irish characters in the British Empire. Disco’s conduct and speech trade on British clichés of the Irish, primarily framed as entertaining throughout the novel. Thus, in the sudden turn to seriousness here as the final mouthpiece, Disco could be interpreted as undermining the solemnity behind the novel’s imperialist message of British superiority.135 But the novel has also shown Irish Disco as a better interlocuter with Africans, both

133 Petzold, “Zwischen ‘Nigger’ und ‘Noble Savage,’” 186. 134 Brantlinger, Rule of Darkness, 190–91. 135 Petzold, “Zwischen ‘Nigger’ und ‘Noble Savage,’” 185. 123 through his humor and by simply recognizing fellow characteristics, questioning the most effective approach to the British civilizing mission in an empire that needs a strict racial and class hierarchy to perpetuate itself but depends on its flexibility in understanding “civilized conduct” and “white” for successful encounters abroad.

Adda’s publication date of 1879 likewise required the reader to engage in some flexible thinking about “civilized conduct.” The novel’s second section focuses narrowly on the Van Hal plantation when Dutch colonial slavery was still legal in the 1840s. This idyllic plantation stands in for a larger, messier Dutch national narrative, concealing the forty years thereafter that involved continued Dutch cruelty,136 arguments for appropriate financial recompense for slaves after abolition, the reality that slaves still faced a ten-year “apprenticeship” after slavery was abolished in

1863,137 and the labor problems caused after 1873 with shortages and imported indentured labor.138

With Adda’s earlier setting in the 1840s, the novel paints a rosy picture of daily life on Doctor Van

Hal’s plantation in Suriname, further diverting attention away from Dutch misconduct toward

Africans by neither depicting Dutch characters involved in the slave trade nor inflicting cruel slave punishments.

Instead, the text, though it mentions in passing Dutch slaveowners’ cruelty, removes culpability from Dutch conduct by only depicting others as responsible for slavery’s most inhumane

136 As Pieter Cornelis Emmer notes, Dutch Suriname was perceived of as having the cruelest planters in literature at the time, though he argues against this depiction, Pieter Cornelis Emmer, The Dutch Slave Trade, 1500-1850 (New York: Berghahn Books, 2006), 110–12. 137 In British colonies, by comparison, the “apprenticeship” period was scheduled to last for four years for domestic workers and six for field workers, but following protests of its abuses in Britain, the apprenticeship ended for everyone after four years, 1834-1838, Kenneth Morgan, Slavery and the British Empire: From Africa to America (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2007), 194–97. 138 Pieter Cornelis Emmer, “Between Slavery and Freedom: The Period of Apprenticeship in Suriname (Dutch Guiana), 1863–1873,” Slavery and Abolition 14, no. 1 (1993): 87–113; Thio Termorshuizen, “Indentured Labour in the Dutch Colonial Empire: 1800-1940,” in Dutch Colonialism, Migration and Cultural Heritage, ed. Gert. Oostindie (Leiden: KITLV, 2008), 261–314. 124 acts: a Portuguese captain takes Adda from the East Coast of Africa, French Captain Dupré brings him illegally to Dutch Suriname, and French slave handler Baptist sells him there;139 while blakeren as an especially cruel colonial Dutch punishment is never carried out in the text by a Dutch person, only by French Baptist and a band of black boschnegers.140 Thanks to the historical setting and the removal of Dutch accountability for cruel conduct, the novel presents Suriname as an idyllic locale in the Dutch Empire for implementing paternalistic imperialism. Yet, the novel’s plot twist, with the murder of “philanthropist” Van Hal,141 along with silence on the contemporary colonial reality of a drawn-out end to abolition resulting in indentured servitude, rather indicates that fostering paternalistic imperialism in colonial Suriname was less effective in less than ideal circumstances.

Instead of Adda remaining in supposedly idyllic Suriname as a liberated slave, he ultimately ends up in America by way of Paris in the final part of the novel. Though Adda plays a minor role in this last section titled “Baptist,” the text briefly returns to its titular character in the final chapter to sketch the prosperous ending of Adda and Louise: “Happy days dawned for them. Adda worshipped his wife and made a great name and fortune for himself in free America. In the battle

139 The French were active in East African slave trade as well, originally bringing slaves, and later “free engagés,” to Reunion or Mauritius for plantations there, before sending some of them around the Cape to French island of St. Domingue (present-day Haiti) in the Caribbean, Patrick Harries, “The Story of East Africa’s Role in the Transatlantic Slave Trade,” The Conversation, accessed October 6, 2017, http://theconversation.com/the-story-of-east-africas-role-in- the-transatlantic-slave-trade-43194; Gordon, Slavery in the Arab World, 184, 200–201. Van Balen later wrote a novel featuring British protagonists about the West Africa slave trade, Johan Hendrik van Balen, De slavenhaler: tooneelen van Afrika’s westkust en reis naar het land der Peuls (Amsterdam: A. Akkeringa, 1884). 140 The usually-dreaded boschnegers, feared by both whites and blacks in Suriname (see chapter two of this project), are not depicted as unruly bands of savages wreaking unpredictable havoc, but as independently-governed and democratic consortiums, only violent and vengeful when merited. The mulatto leader of the boschnegers lists the crimes of Baptist and Dupré and then directly asks his men to serve as the judge and jury: “free negroes of the woods, pronounce a just sentence for these criminals” (“vrije negers der bosschen, spreek over deze misdadigers het vonnis uit naar gerechtigheid”), Verveen, Adda, 181. The boschneger “law” they adhere to is made explicit shortly thereafter: “Our law states: an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth” (“Onze wet luidt: oog om oog, tand om tand”), Verveen, 182. Van Balen takes care to show it is a controlled, even lawful violence meted out justly, changing the long-standing historical record on the violently troublesome bands of runaway slaves in Suriname, hunted down like wild animals to be captured or killed at any cost, into a history that makes them a recognizable group of people using a recognized form of government. See also van Balen’s historical novel on the boschnegers, Johan Hendrik van Balen, De commandant van de negerjagers: historisch verhaal van de krijgstochten tegen de boschnegers in Suriname, 1772-1778 (Amsterdam: Leendertz, 1890). 141 “philantroop,” Verveen, Adda, 170. 125 for the abolition of slavery, Adda was one of the most fervent champions of his unfortunate tribesmen. And his persuasive writings contributed more to the realization of that plan than the influence of many American statesmen.”142 This resolution appears fitting for Adda and Louise, one that productively uses Adda’s own past, along with his polished skills and fame acquired in Europe, to triumph over slavery. However, the setting in “free America” brings up more questions about national identity than it superficially tries to resolve: Why is Adda’s African identity supposedly a universal one connecting him to all African as “tribesmen” that would make him, a foreigner to

America with no experience as a slave there, more convincing at spurring abolition than other blacks or white U.S. lawmakers? Why does Adda not use his fame and talents to return to his Latouka homeland in Africa, possibly as a type of colonial missionary?143 Why do they not return to Louise’s birthplace, Suriname, to champion the abolitionist cause or move to the Netherlands to fight for the end of slavery in the Dutch Empire? These questions highlight that the places which should be considered “home” are not open to them – fear of recapture in Adda’s village in Africa, social stigma in Louise’s Suriname,144 and unacceptance in the Dutch vaderland145 – and instead positing a new country, America, as most accepting of them.

142 “Gelukkige dagen braken voor hen aan. Adda aanbad zijne vrouw en maakte in het vrije Amerika veel naam en fortuin. Bij den strijd om de opheffing der slavernij, was Adda een der vurigste kampioenen voor zijne ongelukkige stamgenooten. En zijne overredende geschriften brachten meer bij tot de verwezenlijking van dat plan, dan de invloed van menig Amerikaansch staatsman,” Verveen, 316. 143 Having black Africans return to evangelize their peers in Africa was a typical European prescription for a happy imperialist ending, for example in W.H.G. Kingston’s Ned Garth. David Killingray notes the connection between African-Americans returning to perform missionary work in Africa as part of a widespread “back to Africa” belief, especially in settlements of former slaves like Freetown (later Sierra Leone) and Liberia, after a stopover in Britain, David Killingray, “The Black Atlantic Missionary Movement and Africa, 1780s-1920s,” Journal of Religion in Africa 33, no. 1 (2003): 4–6. Adda, instead, subverts that idea with Adda’s lack of Christianity and villain Baptist posing as a fake, corrupt missionary. 144 Baptiste remarks that “no white in the colony will ever marry her” (“geen blanke in de kolonie zal haar ooit huwen”), Verveen, Adda, 105. 145 Louise perceives Suriname as her home but is technically Dutch. The novel mentions a brief tour of the Netherlands but they do not choose to settle there, Verveen, 316. 126

The push away from Europe highlights that Adda and Louise exemplify successful, yet problematic outcomes of reforming Africans, and interracial colonial offspring, into polished passable versions of Europeans whose presence is then undesirable in European society, as if they pose a threat to the European norms they both carry off so successfully. The text elucidates more directly the threat Adda’s character signifies when he heroically saves Louise from a loose jaguar at the zoo by wrestling and killing it. His valor comes not as a result of his new European manners, but because he has been momentarily “transformed” back into being an African savage: “The previously civilized man was changed as if by a magic stroke, and there across from the jaguar stood the proud, daring savage, the untamed black.”146 Not only does Adda have all of the white man’s education and fine manners, he remains in possession of his native physical prowess praised earlier in the novel.147

Adda combines European and African traits to become the best of both, arguably even superior to

Europeans, and thus a threat to white imperialist ideology. The final section of the novel downplays

Adda’s agency; just when Adda is deemed most European, as “only missing white skin to be completely equal to one of the Caucasian race,”148 he is nearly left out of his own novel. Adda’s presence seemingly endangers European culture as he embodies the end of paternalistic imperialism, causing its demise due to its very success in “civilizing” the African into a new noble savage now poised to overthrow white superiority.

146 “De beschaafde man van daar straks was als door een tooverslag veranderd, en daar tegenover den jaguar stond de fiere, stoutmoedige wilde, de ongetemde neger,” Verveen, 300. 147 Adda tussles with African lions the first section and uses native tracking skills to save Louise in the second section. 148 “er ontbrak aan Adda slechts de blanke huidskleur, om volkomen gelijk te zijn aan een van het Caucasische ras.” Verveen, Adda, 269. 127

In safely removing Adda and Louise from Europe, Adda instead implies that the northern states149 in “free America” serve, at least in the eyes of European writers and readers,150 as a safe place for liberated slaves as well as a more accepting society for Adda and Louise’s marriage.151 This fleeting, vague mention of idealized “free America,” however, conceals the far more precarious and uncertain situation of freed blacks there, especially following the enactment of the Fugitive Slave

Law in 1850152 and the Dred Scott ruling of 1857.153 Even after all blacks were given full citizenship rights with the adoption of the Fourteenth Amendment in 1868, Adda and Louise’s external appearances would have caused speculation about an interracial marriage. If Louise passed as a white of European descent, their perceived interracial marriage could be nullified, if it was not illegal in

149 Free blacks could be enslaved by simply entering southern states or western territories at the time, Carol Wilson, Freedom at Risk: The Kidnapping of Free Blacks in America, 1780-1865 (Lexington: University Press of Kentucky, 2015), 40. 150 The phrase “het vrije Amerika” was used in Dutch in the nineteenth century, based in part on the idea that America was a place founded on religious and political freedom (by many Dutch settlers), and in part on the fact that America was free from being a British colony. In the nineteenth century in connection with slavery, its use appears to acquire a more sarcastic sense that in “free America,” not everyone is free, as an example from the 1880 Dutch edition of Charles Dickens’ American notes illuminates. In a chapter on slavery, the original English reads: “It has been sometimes urged that, in the unavailing efforts which have been made to advance the cause of Human Freedom in the republic of America (strange cause for history to treat of!)…,”Charles Dickens, Pictures from Italy, and American Notes, vol. 2 (New York: Hurd and Houghton, 1866), 288. Whereas the Dutch revised edition changes the parenthetical to read: (“(wel vreemd tusschen twee haakjes dat men, over Amerika, het vrije Amerika, schrijvende, zoo’n punt heeft te behandelen)…” (“(it is strange, incidentally, that when writing about America, the free America, to have to treat such a point)…), Charles Dickens, Schetsen uit Amerika en tafereelen uit Italië (Nijmegen: Cohen, 1880), 125. 151 The “tragic mulatta” figure embodied by Louise is often perceived of as an African-American trope, even described as the “the quintessential American,” so it is fitting that Louise ends up in America, Manganelli, Transatlantic Spectacles of Race, 8. 152 With the new law and the increasing price of slaves in the American South in the 1850’s, Adda and other free black men living in the North were at greater risk for being kidnapped, claimed to be a fugitive slave, and sold into slavery in the South, all without any right to speak in their own defense nor have a trial. With the substantial federal resources newly available for enforcing the law, catching purported fugitive slaves became a lucrative business with gangs of bounty hunters cashing in and caring little whether a black was a fugitive or not, James Oliver Horton and Lois E. Horton, “A Federal Assault: African Americans and the Impact of the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850,” in Slavery and the Law, ed. Paul Finkelman (Madison, Wis.: Madison House, 1997), 151–52. For details on federal aid given, see Michael Todd Landis, Northern Men with Southern Loyalties: The Democratic Party and the Sectional Crisis (Ithaca, N.Y.: Cornell University Press, 2014), 99–100. 153After the federal Dred Scott ruling in 1857, all blacks of African descent were no longer considered U.S. citizens, further erasing their legal and civil rights in America and leading to the American Civil War, Christina Rivers, “Dred Scott v. Sandford,” in Encyclopedia of Race, Ethnicity, and Society, ed. Richard T. Schaefer, vol. 1 (Thousand Oaks, CA: SAGE, 2008), 418; Horton and Horton, “A Federal Assault: African Americans and the Impact of the Fugitive Slave Law of 1850,” 155. 128 some states, possibly subject to fines or imprisonment.154 The novel boldly sends Adda and Louise off to America as abolitionist celebrities to live happily together in a “free” land, but the deep racial tensions and complicated legal status of blacks in America at this time indicates that it was likely far from the fictional idyll represented in the novel. Adda and Louise, as people with better conduct than most Europeans, threaten the European social order, leaving them informally banished from

Europe, Africa, and the West Indies. In sending them to America, the novel ends by reinforcing the undercurrent of behavioral hypocrisy in the novel by sending them to a “free” land ruled by white

Protestants whose ideals were not reflected in practiced conduct, ultimately containing Adda and

Louise in paternalistic imperialism under the guise of freedom.

Conclusion

The purportedly successful endings to both Black Ivory and Adda draw attention to how the texts foster a positive sense of contemporary paternalistic imperialism that needs Africans to be human but remain inferior to justify European intervention and civilization. Conflictingly, the endings also show how the novels challenge the ideology of white superiority intrinsic to paternalistic imperialism by creating exemplary black African characters who illustrate that they can reach European standards of appropriate conduct while retaining their native prowess and physique, all without religious conversion. Neither author presumably intended to undermine his own national imperialist

154 Both before and after the Civil War, interracial marriage remained illegal in most states. Virginia legally prohibited interracial marriage commencing in 1662, A. Leon Higginbotham Jr. and Barbara K. Kopytoff, “Racial Purity and Interracial Sex in the Law of Colonial and Antebellum Virginia,” in Interracialism: Black-White Intermarriage in American History, Literature, and Law, ed. Werner Sollors (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2000), 82. Texas also had two laws (1837 and 1858) that made interracial unions illegal, the latter including a prison sentence, Peggy Pascoe, What Comes Naturally: Miscegenation Law and the Making of Race in America (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2009), 34. Massachusetts was one of the first states to repeal its “amalgamation” statute in 1843, Amber D. Moulton, The Fight for Interracial Marriage Rights in Antebellum Massachusetts (Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press, 2015), 2. However, miscegenation laws were not federally ruled unconstitutional until 1967 in Loving v. Virginia. 129 agenda, yet they both did by writing texts that strive to humanize and reform the East African in a way that was appealing to juvenile readers. By investing more heavily in one African character, the novels mark Adda and Kambira as key characters whose conduct challenges Christianity’s role in empire-building and draws attention to the inconsistencies in the text regarding Dutch and British conduct and history. Both novels emphasize the inhumane conduct of slave traders in East Africa to discredit their claims and to reassure the reader of British and Dutch superiority, especially as it conceals their slave-trading past, rewriting their national narratives on slavery and race for rising generations to absorb unthinkingly in adventure fiction.

Black Ivory and Adda outwardly give the impression of juvenile adventure novels addressing a contemporary cause and touting the superiority of the British and Dutch Empires, but by being written in a more jingoistic style, they also more readily expose the fissures and contradictions caused when rendering imperialist ideologies more apparent. By changing Africans into rounded characters, instead of used solely for contrasting white conduct as in the previous two chapters, these novels probe the complicated intersection of conduct and race reform in late nineteenth- century imperialism, at once propping up empire and its perpetuation through racist, white paternalistic conduct, while pointing to imperialism’s future deterioration by moving toward the creation of new African identities, using European standards, that re-form the noble savage, validated in the novels’ final attempts to contain these characters perceived of as threats to white superiority.

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Conclusion:

Encountering and Reforming Imperialism in Popular Juvenile Fiction

This dissertation commenced the larger project of situating nineteenth-century Dutch juvenile literature of empire in context with British juvenile literature from 1814-1879, using encounters with colonial or foreign others in popular novels to examine how appropriate conduct informs contemporary imperialist ideologies. Not only does this dissertation make a case for the significance of both popular and juvenile fiction, but also for popular juvenile fiction from the period before peak modern imperialism, as well as those popular novels focused on imperial locales beyond each country’s dominant eastern colonies (present-day India and Indonesia). Through the close reading of representative examples from popular genres, the project highlighted how examples of conduct reinforced and perpetuated imperialist ideologies, while the textual inconsistencies in the novels often weakened those same ideologies.

The dissertation began by examining encounters with colonial others set within the domestic sphere, using domestic moral tales, before moving to encounters set abroad in early and later adventure novels. This progression mirrors the increasing level of awareness of empire domestically in Britain and the Netherlands and the escalating movement to and from imperial locations as the nineteenth century progressed, especially after the Suez Canal opened in 1869. By starting in the domestic sphere, however, this project first identified the family structures and analogies used regularly in all of these different genres that compare colonies or colonial others to children in need of the paternalistic guidance of Dutch or British parents or parent countries. Common throughout the nineteenth century, these familial analogies emphasized certain hierarchies and gender roles supported by learned conduct, which influenced the behaviors and mindsets put forth by imperialist

131 ideologies with their sense of racial and national superiority. These juvenile novels indicate that imperialist ideologies rest on the individual family unit and its rhetoric to successfully perpetuate itself, and how appropriate conduct is addressed in these juvenile novels draws attention to the narrative’s role in that process.

In the first chapter on domestic moral tales from the late 1810s, Barbara Hofland’s Matilda;

The Barbadoes Girl and Petronella Moens’ De jonge Sofia both used colonial heiresses from the West

Indies to depict inappropriate domestic conduct in need of reform that could only occur in a particular patriarchal, domestic familial setting. While these novels certainly expressed anxiety about female colonial identity and insisted it could not be entirely eradicated, they also opened up domestic spaces for new iterations of diverse colonial families, including an all-female one in Matilda, and for new appropriate conduct effected by using the disparaged selfish colonial identity and encounters with former slaves.

The second chapter’s early adventure novels from the 1840s, specifically Masterman Ready by

Frederick Marryat and Gustaaf Westerman by A.E. van Noothoorn, sent a positive message of time spent abroad for young men, both in terms of maturation and increased wealth. Closer examination revealed that the juvenile protagonists had to re-form their conduct to meet local expectations, whether on a deserted island in the Pacific and at the Cape in Marryat’s tale or in the slave society of

Suriname in van Noothoorn’s novel. This altered conduct served as a way for masculine agency in the texts to overcome the limits of empire explicitly and metaphorically addressed in the novels, such as hot climates, immigration, slavery, and unruly populations in the interior, even though the inconsistencies in the novels regarding class, race, and gender continued to challenge and weaken its superficially positive message.

132

In the third chapter’s turn to later adventure tales from the 1870s, R.M. Ballantyne’s Black

Ivory and J.H. van Balen’s Adda illustrated how adventure novels used humanitarian conduct and a contemporary social issue, the East African slave trade, to foster a positive sense of paternalistic imperialism. By drawing out one African character as exemplary, each novel appeared to give him a happy ending in a colonial context. But, in light of the contradictions and gaps in the text, the novels also challenged Christianity’s role in civilizing Africans, concealed the Dutch and British national slave-trading pasts, and underscored the complicated intersection of conduct and race reform in late nineteenth-century imperialism that re-formed “noble savages” into “civilized” denizens who thus became a potential threat to continued white, European imperialist domination.

Through these three chapters, this project showed that popular nineteenth-century Dutch juvenile literature employed the same strategies to endorse a positive sense of paternalistic imperialism as its British counterpart, with minor black characters in the first two chapters’ novels anticipating the third chapter’s focus on how juvenile novels used exemplary African characters for their imperialist agenda. These texts likewise showed similar ambiguities and fissures that worked against their outward imperialist ideologies. These fissures pointed to the larger problem of realizing ideology in material form, which, as Pierre Macherey contends, undoes itself in the process of its very representation.1 These fissures became especially visible and more disruptive in the later novels whose content becomes more jingoist and imperialist. Despite British and Dutch historical differences, their similar cultural representations in juvenile literature indicated that neither nineteenth-century empire is as unique as it purported itself to be, bringing the “atypical” Dutch

1 Pierre Macherey, A Theory of Literary Production, trans. Geoffrey Wall (London; New York: Routledge, 2012), 363. 133

Empire2 into the Protestant Northern European dialogue on imperialism and challenging Britain’s dominant and typically distinctive role in representing imperialism from the nineteenth century.3

One immediate limitation to this study is the subjectivity in how these novels were and continue to be read. Contemporary reader response is difficult to surmise and we cannot know how carefully these texts were read and what influence they had over the youth reading them in terms of thinkingly or unthinkingly imbibing appropriate conduct. Did nineteenth-century youth reading these books for leisure notice any of the contradictions lurking in the text? The sophistication and background of each reader, contemporary or modern, certainly allows for different reading interpretations. Although I argue for popular juvenile fiction’s relevance in understanding the perpetuation of imperialist ideologies, I also know that, like Hobson writing for an end of imperialism still trapped in imperialist and paternalist structures,4 I cannot completely escape being influenced in my discourse by the current political and cultural events of the time and my particular socio-economic position in the USA. Yet, even with some inescapable bias, this project offers valuable contributions to scholarship on imperialism in literature by considering typically unnoticed texts, whose main ideological purpose was to educate the rising generation in order to shape their worldview, and by deliberating how the Dutch Empire fits into the larger European spectrum of nineteenth-century imperialism from a literary standpoint.

Although this study skewed heavily westward and southward, almost to the complete exclusion of the more popular and financially lucrative eastern empires of both nations in the nineteenth century, this restriction provides balance in critical scholarship by considering the

2 Arendt, Imperialism, 10n6. 3 Clancy-Smith and Gouda, “Introduction,” 4. 4 See this argument about Hobson, see David Long, “Paternalism and the Internationalization of Imperialism: J.A. Hobson on the International Government of the ‘Lower Races,’” in Imperialism and Internationalism in the Discipline of International Relations, ed. David Long and Brian C. Schmidt (SUNY Press, 2005), 71. 134 formation and perpetuation of imperialist ideologies in texts depicting colonies with different population makeups than the east, whether plantation societies like the British and Dutch West

Indies and Suriname, or white settler colonies like South Africa and Australia. All of these places brought a heightened awareness of slavery in the novels, especially in appropriate conduct prescribed through encounters with these slaves, which in turn showed underlying gaps and inconsistencies that complicated easy (re)formations of race and class. This non-eastern imperial focus, in conjunction with scholarship already done on literature portraying the eastern parts of the empires, makes an initial contribution to broadening our understanding of nineteenth-century imperialist ideologies in the Dutch and British Empires. Much more work on juvenile literature remains to be done, especially on historical fiction’s ideological role in Dutch and British juvenile literature, and in comparing juvenile fiction from other nineteenth-century European empires.

In revealing and deliberating the formulations of imperialist ideologies that so inform ideas of nineteenth-century race and class, this dissertation builds on many critical British predecessors written about juvenile textbooks, primers, popular magazines, and novels,5 in hoping that by illustrating the mechanisms of culturally instantiating imperialism, we will have a better understanding of how to reform the legacies of imperialism and racial difference that still negatively inform western society today. As indicated by British and Dutch nineteenth-century juvenile literature’s continuous formation and reformation of imperialist ideology resulting in internal fissures and contradictions, perhaps in giving critical shape to our imperialist ideologies, we can become more aware of our modern imperialist conduct and we too can find a way to appropriately reform it.

5 See Brantlinger, Rule of Darkness; Castle, Britannia’s Children; Goswami, Colonial India in Children’s Literature; Green, Dreams of Adventure, Deeds of Empire; Kutzer, Empire’s Children; Logan, Narrating Africa; Norcia, X Marks the Spot; Jeffrey Richards, Imperialism and Juvenile Literature (Manchester; New York: Manchester University Press, 1989); Singh, Goodly Is Our Heritage. 135

Appendix A: Timeline of significant events in the British and Dutch Empires, 1780-1910

Year Dutch Empire Both British Empire 1780 Republic of the Seven United 1780-1784: Fourth Anglo-Dutch King George III (1760-1820) Netherlands (1581-1795) War; British victory 1783 1783-1784: Treaty of Paris: British lose Thirteen American Colonies; Dutch regain control of Ceylon and other British-occupied colonies; British gain trading rights in part of Dutch East Indies 1788 1788-1795 – impeachment trial (and acquittal) of Hastings (first Govenor-General of India) 1792 Dutch West Indies Company (WIC) bankrupt - Dutch Republic takes over WIC colonies 1795 1795-1806: Batavian Republic 1795-1803: British occupy Dutch replaces the Dutch Republic with Cape Colony help of France (becomes client state of France) 1800 Dutch East Indies Company Acts of Union 1800, uniting (VOC) bankrupt -Batavian Ireland as of 1801 Republic takes over VOC colonies 1803 Cape Colony returned to Batavian Republic 1804 1804-1816: British occupy Suriname (Engels tussenbestuur) 1805 Battle of Trafalgar establishes British naval superiority 1806 1806-1810: Kingdom of Holland British occupy Cape Colony, replaces Batavian Republic, ceded to the British in Anglo- Napoleon’s brother is King Louis Dutch Treaty 1814 Bonaparte 1806 1806-1811: French control of Dutch East Indies (Dutch general Herman Willem Daendels serves as Govenor-General under Louis Bonaparte) 1807 British abolish slave trade with Slave Trade Act 1807 1810 1810-1813: Kingdom of Holland annexed by France under Napoleon 1811 1811-1816: British occupy the Dutch East Indies (Engels tussenbestuur) 1813 Dutch liberated from France by Prussian and Russian troops; 1813-1840: King Willem I 136

1814 Dutch abolish slave trade as part Anglo-Dutch Treaty 1814: Dutch of Anglo-Dutch Treaty 1814 cede Cape Colony and British Guiana; Ceylon now as British Crown Colony; British return other occupied territories to Dutch; ban on Dutch involvement in slave trade 1815 1815-1839: United Kingdom of the Netherlands under King William I (of Orange-Nassau), made up of former Dutch Republic, former Austrian Netherlands, and former Prince- Bishopric of Liège, included Grand Duchy of Luxembourg 1820 1820-1830: King George IV 1824 Anglo-Dutch Treaty 1824: officially demarcates spheres of influence in the East using the Strait of Malacca, with British having rights over the northern territory (Malaya – present-day Malaysia and Singapore) and the Dutch to the south (Dutch East Indies – present-day Indonesia) 1825 1825-1830: Java War; Dutch victory 1830 Belgian Revolution: Belgian 1830-1837: King William IV victory; Belgium secedes from the Netherlands; 1830 London Conference recognized Belgian independence (not officially recognized by Netherlands until 1839) 1830 1830-1870: Cultuurstelsel (cultivation) program in the Dutch East Indies 1831 1831-1872: Recruitment of soldiers from Dutch Gold Coast (Dutch Guinea) for Koninklijk Nederlandsch-Indisch Leger (KNIL) (Royal Netherlands East Indies Army) 1834 British abolish slavery in British Empire with Slavery Abolition Act 1833, but slaves remain “apprentices” until 1838; exceptions Honorable East India Company holdings and Ceylon 1837 1837-1901: Queen Victoria 1839 Treaty of London 1839: recognized independent Kingdom of Belgium 1840 1840-1849: King Willem II 137

1849 1849-1890: King Willem III 1851 Australian gold rush 1853 1853-1856: Crimean War; Allied victory over Russia; Black Sea neutral territory 1857 Indian Rebellion/“Sepoy Mutiny,” British victory 1858 1858-1947: Government of India Act 1858, end of British East India Company rule, government rule of India and establishment of the British Raj 1854 Dutch abolish slavery in East Indies for European and Chinese owners in areas of direct Dutch control, effective January 1, 1860 (Staatsblad van het Koninkrijk der Nederlanden Stb. 1854, 129, Art. 115) 1860 Multatuli publishes Max Havelaar, novel critical of the corruption in Dutch East Indies 1863 Dutch abolish slavery in Dutch Empire (Staatsblad van het Koninkrijk der Nederlanden Stb. 1862, 164), Suriname has mandatory 10-year transition period 1867 Discovery of diamonds in South Africa 1869 Suez Canal opens under French control on November 17, 1869 1870 Cultuurstelsel (cultivation) 1870-1871: four Anglo-Dutch program ends with Agrarian Law treaties officially recognized Aceh of 1870 and Sumatra as under Dutch influence; negotiated Dutch recruitment of workers from British India to Suriname; ceded Dutch Gold Coast in western Africa to British in 1872 1872 Dutch sell remaining African colony, Dutch Gold Coast, to British per the Anglo-Dutch treaties of 1870-71 1873 1873-1914-Aceh (Atjeh) war in Dutch East Indies; Dutch victory, Aceh annexed 1875 Suez usage: 1. British, 2. French, Prime Minister Disraeli (on behalf 3. Dutch of British government) buys nearly half of the shares in the Suez Canal from bankrupt Egyptian ruler Isma’il Pasha; French shareholders still have a

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majority, though Canal now perceived as British 1880 1880-81-First Boer War in South Africa; Boer victory; British recognition of independent South African Republic (Republic of Transvaal) and Orange Free State 1882 British occupy Egypt, arguably to keep the Suez Canal in “neutral” hands 1884 1884-1885-Berlin Congress Discovery of gold in South Africa (Scramble for Africa) 1888 Convention of Constantinople 1888: Suez Canal neutralized 1890 1890-1948: Queen Wilhelmina 1894 Lombok-expeditie (campaign); Dutch victory, Dutch control of Lombok in Dutch East Indies 1899 1899-1902-Second Boer War in South Africa; British victory; Treaty of Vereeniging 1882 peace treaty with South African Republic and Orange Free State as colonies of British Crown 1901 Ethische Poltiek (Ethical Policy) – 1901-1910: King Edward VII official policy of colonial government in Dutch East Indies 1910 1910-1936: King George V

Union of South Africa established from South Africa Act 1909, uniting four British colonies: Cape Colony, Natal Colony, Transvaal Colony and Orange River Colony; Dutch (later Afrikaans in 1925) and English official languages; self-governing dominion of British Empire

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Appendix B: Titles of popular Dutch juvenile novels with colonial content, 1814-1879 This appendix provides bibliographical information for Dutch juvenile novels considered for this project, arranged alphabetically. The focus was to consolidate a list of Dutch colonial juvenile novels from the time period for the 12-18-year-old reader, excluding poetry and schoolbooks, to compare with the more widely-studied equivalent in British juvenile literature. The two main sources consulted were Dorothée Buur’s annotated bibliography, Indische jeugdliteratuur and Michiel van Kempen’s list of colonial literature on Suriname, along with references to colonial material in juvenile literature mentioned in other surveys of Dutch literature. Each entry is formatted as follows: Author. Year. Title. Place: Publisher. Additional editions. Colonial content: [East Indies, West Indies (islands), Suriname, Cape Colony, South Africa, Dejima]. Entries: [bibliographic entries in CBK, DB, MK]. Digital: [full text copies available via CBK, DBNL, GB] Abbreviations: CBK - Centraal Bestand Kinderboeken (http://picarta.pica.nl/DB=3.34/) DB – annotated entry in Dorothée Buur. 1992. Indische jeugdliteratuur: Geannoteerde bibliografie van jeugdboeken over Nederlands-Indië en Indonesië. Leiden: KITLV. DBNL – digitale bibliotheek voor de Nederlandse letteren – dbnl (http://www.dbnl.org/) GB – Google Books (https://books.google.com/) MK- entry in Michiel van Kempen, ed. Chronologische signaleringslijst van koloniaal en niet-Surinaams literair werk over Suriname. (http://www.surinamistiek.nl/literatuur/) --- van der Aa, A.J. 1850. Lotgevallen van Willem Heenvliet, vooral ook op Borneo en Bali : voor jonge lieden bewerkt. Amsterdam: Van Brederode. 2nd ed. 1851. Colonial content: East Indies. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, DBNL, GB. Andriessen, P.J. 1856. Marie en Pauline of Nederigheid en hoogmoed. Amsterdam: Sybrandi. 2nd ed. 1861; 3rd. ed. 1867; 4th ed. 1875; 5th ed. 1890; 6th ed. 1894; 7th ed. 1907; 8th ed. 1919. Colonial content: Suriname. Entries: CBK, MK. Digital: CBK, GB. Andriessen, P.J. 1877. Het Heidebloempje: Een verhaal uit onzen tijd. Amsterdam: Van Holkema & Warendorf. 2nd ed. 1887; 3rd ed. 1896; 4th ed. 1913. Colonial content: East Indies. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, DBNL, GB. Andriessen, P.J. 1861. De weezen van Vlissingen; Of, Hoe onze Republiek onafhankelijk werd; Een verhaal uit het derde tijdperk van den Tachtigjarigen Oorlog, 1609-1648. Amsterdam: Tielkemeijer. 2nd ed. 1864; 3rd ed. 1873; 5th ed. 1886; 6th ed. 1900; 7th ed. 1910. Colonial content: East Indies. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, DBNL, GB.

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Cheribon. 1872. De ; jager: avonturen in de wildernissen, wouden en zeeën van Neêrlandsch Indië Amersfoort: Slothouwer. 2nd ed. 1877; 3rd. ed. 1888. Colonial content: East Indies, Guinea. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, GB. Duisdeiker Lz.., J.H. 1877. Thomas de Blinde; Of, Vriendtrouw in lief en leed. Amsterdam: Duisdeiker L.J.rsz. Colonial content: East Indies. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: GB. Elise. 1850. Uit verre landen en van nabij. Amsterdam : G.W. Tielkemeijer. 2nd ed. 1857. Colonial content: Suriname. Entries: CBK, MK. Digital: CBK, GB. Engelbert Gerrits, G. 1826. Het Leven en de Daden van den doorluchtigen zeeheld J. Psz. Koen; Gouverneur generaal en voornaamsten grondlegger van Nêerlands uitgebreide heerschappij in de Oost-Indië; in gesprekken tusschen eenen vader en zijne kinderen. Amsterdam: Schalekamp & van de Grampel. 2nd ed. 1832. Colonial Content: East Indies. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, DBNL, GB. Evangeline [H.M.C. van Oosterzee]. 1858. De Reis naar Java. Verhaal voor de jeugd. Leyden: A.W. Sythoff. 2nd ed. 1858. Colonial Content: East Indies. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, GB. Notes: Hendrik van Oosterzee notes in an autobiography that the four works published under Evangeline were reworked translations and were issued under that name against his wishes. See Jaarboek van de Maatschappij der Nederlandse Letterkunde, 1878: 69-92 (available on DBNL). Gerdes, E. 1867. De kanten zakdoek: een verhaal uit den ouden tijd. Leiden: A.W. Sijthoff. 2nd ed. 1883; 3rd ed. 1890; 5th ed. 1906; 6th ed. 1910; 8th ed. 1919; 9th ed. 1925; 10th ed. 1929. Colonial content: Suriname. Entries: CBK, MK. Digital: CBK, DBNL, GB. Goeverneur, J.J.A. 1870. Nederlandsch Indië of De bewoners dezer streken, geschetst in tafereelen uit hun dagelijksch leven, zeden en gebruiken. Voor het prentenmagazijn van G. van Sandwijk, verzameld door J.J.A. Goeverneur. Leiden: D. Noothoven van Goor. Colonial content: East Indies. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, GB. Gogh, Christina van. 1864. Vertellingen van een Surinaamschen vogel. Amsterdam: P.M. van der Made. Colonial content: Suriname. Entries: CBK, MK. Digital: CBK, DBNL, GB. Jong, Cornelius de. 1833. Reizen naar de Kaap de Goede Hoop, Ierland en Noorwegen door Cornelius de Jong. Voor jonge lieden bearbeid, door J. Olivier, Jz. Edited by J. Olivier, Jz. Amsterdam: G.J.A. Beijerinck. Colonial content: Cape Colony, East Indies. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, GB. Kessel, O. van. 1860. Van Java naar Borneo en andere reis- en jagtavonturen voor de jeugd. Leiden : D. Noothoven van Goor. Colonial content: East Indies, South Africa. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, GB. Koetsveld, C.E. van. 1861. Op de Wandeling. Vertellingen aan mijne jeugdige Vrienden. Schoonhoven: S.E. van Nooten & Zoon. 2nd ed. 1881. Colonial content: East Indies, Cape Colony. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, GB.

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Louwerse, P. 1874. Mannen van sta-vast, of De Oost-Indische Compagnie onder den gouverneur-generaal Jan Pietersz. Koen : een verhaal voor 't jonge Nederland. Amsterdam: Hassels. 2nd ed. 1881; 2nd rev. ed. 1882; 3rd ed. 1893. Colonial content: East Indies. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, GB. Meerten-Schilperoort, Anna Barbara van. 1825. De kermiswandeling. Amsterdam: G.J.A. Beijerinck. Colonial content: East Indies (indirectly). Entries: CBK. Digital: CBK, DBNL, GB. Melati van Java. 1879. Angeline’s Beloften. Alkmaar: Gebr. Kluitman. 2nd ed. 1896; 3rd ed. 1902; 4th ed. 1911; 5th ed. 1917; 6th ed. 1920; 7th ed. 1926. Colonial content: East Indies. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, DBNL, GB. Moens, Petronella. 1819. De jonge Sofia. Amsterdam: G.J.A. Beijerinck. 2nd ed. 1837. Colonial content: Suriname. Entries: CBK. Digital: CBK, DBNL, GB. Noothoorn, Anthony Engelbertus van. 1843. Reizen en Lotgevallen van Lodewijk Vermeer in de Nederlandsch Oost-Indische Bezittingen. Amsterdam: G. Portielje. Colonial content: East Indies, South Africa, Cape Colony. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, DBNL, GB. Noothoorn, Anthony Engelbertus van. 1843. Reizen en lotgevallen van Gustaaf Westerman, in de Nederlandsch West-Indische bezittigen. Amsterdam: Sijbrandi. Flemish edition 1844. Colonial content: Suriname, West Indies. Entries: CBK, MK. Digital: CBK, GB. Olivier Jz, Johannes. 1835. Elviro's reis naar en door Java en de Molukkos. Amsterdam: H.W. Weytingh. Colonial content: East Indies. Entries: DB. Digital: not available. Olivier Jz, Johannes. 1840. Tafereel van Oost-Indië, voor jonge lieden van beiderlei kunne. Amsterdam: G.J.A. Beyerinck. 2nd ed. 1844. Colonial content: East Indies. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, GB. Oostkamp, J.A. 1825. De merkwaardigste Nederlandsche zeereizen sedert den jare 1594; Voor de vaderlandsche jeugd. Amsterdam: Beijerinck. Colonial content: East Indies. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, GB. Schetsberg, C.H. 1858. De planter Brunel en zijne slaven Asa en Neno: of Hoe de hemelsche vader het kwade gedoogt om daaruit het goede te doen geboren worden. Goes: Schetsberg. Colonial content: Suriname. Entries: CBK, MK. Digital: CBK, GB. Verveen, Hendrik [Johan Hendrik van Balen]. 1879. Adda, de lotgevallen van een slaaf. Schiedam: Roelants. Colonial content: Suriname. Entries: MK. Digital: not available. Zeeman, H. 1833. Het leven, de daden en lotgevallen van Jan Camphuis, gouverneur-generaal van Nederlands- Indië. Amsterdam: Schalekamp & Van de Grampel. Colonial content: East Indies, Dejima. Entries: CBK, DB. Digital: CBK, GB.

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Appendix C: Brief biographical and bibliographical overview of main authors This appendix provides brief overviews of the six main authors whose works are closely examined in this project, arranged by chapter, then British author followed by Dutch author.

Abbreviations for digital sources: CBK - Centraal Bestand Kinderboeken (http://picarta.pica.nl/DB=3.34/) DBNL – digitale bibliotheek voor de Nederlandse letteren – dbnl (http://www.dbnl.org/) DNB – Oxford Dictionary of National Biography (http://www.oxforddnb.com.proxy.uchicago.edu/) DVN - Digitaal Vrouwenlexicon van Nederland (http://resources.huygens.knaw.nl/vrouwenlexicon) WW – WomenWriters (http://neww.huygens.knaw.nl/)

Chapter 1: Barbara Hofland and Petronella Moens Author: Barbara Hofland (1770-1844) Total number of publications: approximately 55, at least 45 juvenile Brief bio: Barbara Hofland wrote to support her family, since she had an infant son from her deceased first husband, and her second husband’s earnings as an artist were inconsistent. She was very popular both in her lifetime and for many years after, known for her didactic fiction in a family setting, though she also wrote early adventure novels including a robinsonade. Colonial connections: Beyond Matilda; Or, The Barbadoes Girl (London: Printed at the Minerva Press for A.K. Newman and Co., 1816) covered in the first chapter, Hofland penned an early example of a female lead set abroad, The Captives in India, 3 vols. (London: Bentley 1834), based on the Eliza Fay’s published letters in 1817 from her time in India. She also penned an informative book for youth on Africa in 1828, Africa described, in its Ancient and Present State (London: Longman, Rees, Orme, Brown, and Green, Paternoster-Row, 1828), citing historical and contemporary sources. Hofland tried her hand at a robinsoade, The young Crusoe, a tale (London: A.K. Newman, 1829), and set one of her other novels in India, The Young Cadet, or Henry Delamere’s Voyage to India (London: J. Harris, 1828). Biographical/Bibliographical sources: Dennis Butts, “Finding and Sustaining a Popular Appeal: The Case of Barbara Hofland,” in Popular Children’s Literature in Britain, edited by Julia Briggs, Dennis Butts, and Matthew Orville Grenby, (Aldershot, England; Burlington, VT: Ashgate Publishing, Ltd., 2008), 105-22.

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Dennis Butts, Mistress of our tears: a literary and bibliographical study of Barbara Hofland (Aldershot : Scolar Press, 1992). Thomas Ramsay, The Life and Literary Remains of Barbara Hofland (London: W.J. Cleaver, 1849, available online: https://archive.org/details/lifeliteraryrema00rams). Digital: DNB, WW --- Author: Petronella Moens (1762-1843) Total Publications: more than 150 Brief bio: Petronella Moens was nearly blind from the age of four but renowned for her active role in contemporary politics, for championing patriotic Dutch nationalism, for editing more than 15 almanacs, and for her didactic books for children. Colonial connections: Besides De jonge Sofia (Amsterdam: Schalekamp en Van de Grampel,1820) examined in the first chapter, where the father spends time on his plantations in Suriname, Moens wrote a utopian novel set in a fictional colony in South America, Aardenburg, of de onbekende volksplanting in Zuid-Amerika (Haarlem: Francoiş Bohn, 1817, but reprinted in a new edited edition by Amsterdam University Press in 2001). Biographical/Bibliographical sources:

Piet J., and Leontine Buijnsters-Smets. Lust en leering: geschiedenis van het Nederlandse kinderboek in de negentiende eeuw (Zwolle: Waanders, 2001), pp. 30-37. Cor W. Stigter, Onvolledige Lijst van Publikaties van en over Petronella Moens: Een Aanzet Tot Nadere Studie van Haar Leven En Werken (Wijnjewoude: C.W. Stigter, 1993).

Ans J Veltman-van den Bos, Petronella Moens (1762-1843): De Vriendin van ’t Vaderland. (Nijmegen: Vantilt, 2000).

Ans J Veltman-van den Bos and Joannes Josephus Victor Maria de Vet. Par Amitié: De Vriendenrol van Petronella Moens (Nijmegen: Vantilt, 2009).

Digital: CBK, DBNL, DVN, WW Stichting Petronella Moens (http://www.petronella-moens.nl/)

---

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Chapter 2: Captain Marryat and A.E. van Noothoorn Author: Captain Frederick Marryat (1792-1848) Total Publications: about 26 Brief bio: Marryat was an English naval officer who spent time in the West Indies, North America, and the East Indies. He was considered an early pioneer of the sea story, writing numerous novels for adults based on his maritime experiences, in addition to editing a journal. Marryat only turned to writing juvenile books in 1841, beginning with Masterman Ready; Or, The Wreck of the Pacific. Written for Young People, 3 vols. (London: Longman, Orme, Brown, Green, & Longmans, 1841, covered in the second chapter here), but is often known for his historical novel set in England, The Children of the New Forest (London: H. Hurst, 1847). Colonial connections: Most of his works for adults were maritime stories and thus have a strong imperial component. Of his juvenile works, four have colonial connections: Masterman Ready (1841); The Settlers in Canada (London: Longman, Brown, Green, & Longmans, 1844), The Mission, or, Scenes in Africa (London: Longman, Brown, Green & Longmans, 1845), and the robinsonade, The Little Savage (London: H. Hurst, 1848). Biographic/bibliographic sources: Christopher Lloyd, Captain Marryat and ‘The Old Navy’ (London ; New York : Longmans, Green and Co., 1939). Florence Marryat, Life and Letters of Captain Marryat, 2 vols. (London: R. Bentley & Son, 1872, available online: vol.1: https://archive.org/details/lifeandlettersof01marruoft ; vol.2: https://archive.org/details/lifeandlettersof02marruoft). Tom Pocock, Captain Marryat: Seaman, Writer and Adventurer (Mechanicsburg, PA: Stackpole Books, 2000). Oliver Warner, Captain Marryat, a rediscovery (London: Constable, 1953). Digital: DNB --- Author: Anthony Engbertus van Noothoorn (1811-1851) Total Publications: about 25, of which 15 for a juvenile audience

Brief bio: Little known of his early years, started a French boarding and day school, moved frequently with his family within the Netherlands, started publishing in 1838 for adults, and his first juvenile novel in 1841, continuing almost exclusively with juvenile works, many of which followed a fictional travelogue formula, until his death in 1851.

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Colonial connections: The first two of his Reizen en Lotgevallen series are set respectively in the Dutch East and West Indies, Lodewijk Vermeer (Amsterdam: G. Porteilje, 1843) and Gustaaf Westerman (Amsterdam: J.D. Sijbrandi, 1843, examined in the second chapter of this project). Biographical/Bibliographical sources: Renate van der Geer, De wereld volgens A.E. van Noothoorn, Dissertation, University of Amsterdam, 1994. Digital: CBK, DNBL --- Chapter 3: R.M. Ballantyne and J.H. van Balen Author: Robert Michael Ballantyne (1825-1894) Total Publications: more than 90 Brief bio: Born in Scotland, at age 16 signed on for five years with the Hudson’s Bay Company in Canada. Ballantyne began writing novels in 1856 with Snowflakes and Sunbeams, or, The Young Fur Traders (London: T. Nelson & Sons, 1856). One of his most popular was a robinsonade, The Coral Island (London: T. Nelson & Sons, 1858). He preferred to write from his own experience so spent time traveling and also writing for causes such as lifeboats, mines, and lighthouses. Colonial connections: In addition to Black Ivory: A Tale of Adventure among the Slavers of East Africa (London: James Nisbet & Co., 1873) examined in the third chapter, Ballantyne set many other novels in the British Empire and Africa, including The Gorilla Hunters (London: T. Nelson & Sons, 1861) set in “darkest Africa,” as well as the epistolary novel, Six Months at the Cape (London: James Nisbet & Co., 1879). Autobiography: R. M. Ballantyne, Personal reminiscences in book-making (London: James Nisbet & Co., 1893) Biographical/Bibliographical sources: Eric Quayle, Ballantyne the Brave: A Victorian Writer and His Family (London: Hart-Davis, 1967).

Eric Quayle, R.M. Ballantyne: a bibliography of first editions (London: Dawsons, 1968). Digital: DNB Dictionary of Canadian Biography (http://www.biographi.ca/en/bio/ballantyne_robert_michael_12E.html) --- Author: Johan Hendrik van Balen (1851-1921) Total Publications: approximately 80 novels 146

Brief bio: Little has been written on van Balen’s life, other than his autobiography written under a pseudonym as a juvenile book (see below), though he was a prolific writer, edited many serials for adults and youth, and translated novels from German and French, in addition to publishing books on ornithology. Colonial connections: Many of his historical novels are set in the Dutch Empire, especially the series De Nederlanders in Oost en West, te water en te land (First series, 12 vols. 1881-84; second series, 12 vols. 1890-93). Van Balen also published a guide in 1907 on immigrating to Suriname, Naar Suriname!: gids voor allen, die wenschen te emigreeren (Kampen: Laurens van Hulst, 1907). Some of his other adventure novels also take place in Dutch imperial settings, such as De roode paradijsvogel: eene handelsreis naar Nederlandsch Nieuw-Guinea (Rotterdam: Jacs. G. Robbers, 1880). Autobiography: Koen van Dam, Mijn jongensjaren: de jeugd van een bekend schrijver door hem zelf verhaald (Alkmaar: Kluitman, 1904). 1st ed. 1904, 2nd ed. 1913, 3rd ed. 1919. Biographical/Bibliographical sources: Gerard C. Brantas, Monique Konings, Maud de Sitter, and Peter van Zonneveld, “Van Brave Hendrik tot Dik Trom: de negentiende eeuw,” in De hele Bibelebontse berg: de geschiedenis van het kinderboek in Nederland & Vlaanderen van de middeleeuwen tot heden, edited by Harry Bekkering and Netty Heimeriks (Amsterdam: Querido, 1989), pp. 271-274.

Piet J., and Leontine Buijnsters-Smets. Lust en leering: geschiedenis van het Nederlandse kinderboek in de negentiende eeuw (Zwolle: Waanders, 2001), p. 258. Rita Ghesquiere, Vanessa Joosen, and Helma van Lierop-Debrauwer, eds., Een land van waan en wijs: geschiedenis van de Nederlandse jeugdliteratuur, (Amsterdam: Uitgeverij Atlas Contact, 2014), 162, 274.

Michiel van Kempen, Een geschiedenis van de Surinaamse literatuur Dl. III, De geschreven literatuur van 1596 tot 1923 (Paramaribo: Okopipi, 2002).

Michiel van Kempen, “De West Tussen Romantiek En Realisme,” in De as van de Romantiek: Opstellen Aangeboden Aan Prof Dr W. van Den Berg Bij Zijn Afscheid Als Hoogleraar Moderne Nederlandse Letterkunde Aan de Universiteit van Amsterdam, edited by K.D. Beekman, M. T.C. Mathijsen-Verkooijen, and G.F.H. Raat (Amsterdam: Vossiuspers AUP, 1999) 114-128.

Kees Waij, “Johan Hendrik van Balen,” Verniaan 31 (2004): 36–41. An extensive bibliography that lists pseudonyms, includes journals, and translations; however, the first six of the second series of De Nederlanders in Oost en West, te water en te land, are listed on the bibliography but not as part of the series, which starts in 1890 instead of 1892. Cross-checking with the CBK indicated which of the other books were part of the series. Also, at least one pseudonym and novel not included: Kamon- No-Kami is listed as van Balen on CBK’s entry for De avonturen van Fô: een Japansch verhaal (‘s- Gravenhage: W. Cremer, 1888). Digital: CBK, DBNL

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